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“JUDGE NOT;” 


HESTER POWERS’ GIRLHOOD. 




MKS. EDWIN SHEPPAKD. 

M 






»; of C tT) 


isr;? 




LORIN'G., Pnblislier, 
BOSTON. 

1868 . 


No./. 




Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by 
A. K. LOUING, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the District of Massachusetts. 


0 


1 


Kockwcll & Rollins, Stercotypers and Printers, 
122 Washington St., Boston. 


5 


HESTER POWERS’ GIRLHOOD. 


CHAPTEHI. 

“judge not.” 

Standing on the l:)row of a hill, which overlooked a 
large stretch of undulating country, were two young 
girls. It was Sunday morning and rather early ; the 
grass was still heavy with dew, and the perfume from 
the hawthorn hedges came up from the meadows, fill 
ing the morning air with a delicious odor. 

Close to where the girls stood there was a patch of 
blue and white violets, and they had come for the pur- 
pose of gathering the pretty little blossoms while yet 
the dew was fresh upon their leates. Now they were 
both standing in thoughtful attitudes, each holding a 
bunch of the gathered flowers. 

A pretty picture those two village girls would have 
made as they stood, one gazing admiringly down upon 
the quiet village in the valley, where the sunlight glowed 
upon the cottage windows and tipped the old ivy-grown 
church-tower with golden beauty. The other’s thoughts 
and eyes were beyond : she was looking upon the sun- 
lit turrets of “West Oakland,” a noble mansion rising 
from without a clump of royal oaks and stately elms, 

8 


4 


JUDGE not;” or, 

and she was thinking of one of the inmates of that 
mansion whom she had not yet seen. 

Hester Powers was a pretty girl, a real rustic beauty, 
with bright brown ringlets, large, lustrous eyes, and 
brilliant complexion ; her figure, too, was light and 
graceful. Her companion, on the contrar}^, could not 
be called pretty, only a fresh, jolly-looking country 
maiden, full of good nature and spirit. These girls, 
Hester Powers and Grace Homes, were neighbors, 
and had been companions from the time when they 
first began to walk. To the village school they had 
walked together ; members of the same Sabbath-school 
class they were, and hand in hand they were going 
onward to that most interesting and solemn event in 
the history of youth, when they should dedicate them- 
selves to the service of God. 

Their parents were of the laboring class, thrifty, and 
might be termed intelligent people ; industry had placed 
them above want, — Hester’s parents particularly, for 
the}^ had only her to provide for, and it was their delight 
to supply their only child with all the comforts in their 
power. Nancy Powers was a good needle- woman, and 
generally found plenty of work among the rich folks 
around, which enabled her to provide Hester with ar- 
ticles of dress of a finer and more becoming character 
than village maidens usually wear. But pretty muslin 
frocks and blue ribbons did not mar the simplicity of 
Hester’s nature ; though she was always queen of the 
May, the first in all the village merry-makings, she did 
not lose the pretty modesty with which nature had 
endowed her. 


HESTER ROWERS* GIRLHOOD. 


5 


But we must return to her and her young friend 
whom we left standing on the hill-top. 

“ I wonder,” said Hester, as she turned her eyes from 
the still illuminated turrets of the mansion, “ I wonder 
if they will be at church to-day.” 

“ Who?” inquired Grace. 

“ I was thinking of the Falkstones,” said Hester, 
with a blush. “I want to see Miss Isabella Falk- 
stone ; they say she is so beautiful. Hasn’t she a 
grand name?” 

“ Well, I don’t know,” answered Grace ; “ I think my 
name, Grace Homes, is just as good. I don’t care for 
big names ; and more than that, Hester, something 
tells me that the new-comers at ‘ West Oakland’ will 
not be so nice as Old Sir Eichard, with all his odd 
VfSijs. I wish that he had lived longer.” 

“ So do I,” said Hester. “ He was good to us, you 
know.” 

“ Yes, in his way,” Grace said with a smile ; 
“ though I oftener remember him setting the dogs after 
us when we passed his orchards. But I wish he was 
at ‘West Oakland’ now, instead of the new-comers.” 

The chimes from out the old gray-stone tower began 
to ring out deep, mellow tones now, and Hester and 
her friend walked slowly down the hill. 

Children of all ages were wending their way to the 
Sunday school, all dressed in their very best, and 
many a rustic hat boasted a bright new ribbon in 
honor of the arrival of the new owners of “West Oak- 
land.” There was a little stir, too, among the older 
folks, a sort of happy excitement on their ruddy faces, 


6 


JUDGE NOT ; Oil, 


a 


as they stood in the doorways to watch the children 
as they tripped along, talking of the fine ladies who 
would perhaps appear at church that morning. 

For very many years Old Sir Richard Falkstone 
had lived at his country-seat pretty much alone. Oc- 
casionally, in summer, a few visitors w^ould come 
down from London, and regale themselves for a while 
with the fine country air, and the rich fruits which grew 
plentifully in the old baronet’s gardens ; gladden the 
eyes of the country people with a sight of their fine 
dresses and plumes, and then disappear. But the old 
gentleman had been gathered to his fathers, and his 
rich inheritance had fallen to his next heir. Sir Huston 
Falkstone. 

“ West Oakland,” which had long been a gloomy 
place, was now thrown open ; having been made ready 
to receiA^e its new owners, who were by no means in- 
clined to live the retired life Sir Richard had. 

Sir Huston’s family had but just arrived at their 
new home. He had but one child, a daughter, and it 
was rumored abroad that she was very beautiful. 

“I do want to see her,” Hester again said, as she 
and Grace walked along to the Sunday school. 

“ Well, I don’t a bit,” was the answer. “ I dare say 
all of them are very proud, and the young lady most 
of all ; she’ll only turn up her nose at us, I’m sure.” 

“ I don’t know why she should,” Hester said, gravely ; 
“ and then, Grace, Miss Falkstone may be one of those 
very nice young ladies who love to be kind and good 
to people beneath them. It isn’t right to say too 


HESTER POWERS GIRLHOOD. 


7 


much about them before we have seen them. Don’t 
you remember our good pastor’s motto, ‘Judge not’?” 

“ That is true, Hester ; you are always setting me 
right. Anyway, I don’t think they will pass you by, 
Hester ; nobod}^ does. Gid Sir Eichard would take you 
into his gardens, and through the beautiful rooms of 
the mansion, when he would have put the dogs upon 
any of us if we even set our foot upon his gi’ounds.” 

“ Sir Eichard was very old and odd,” Hester said, 
“ and when he gave me fruit I always used to share 
it.” 

“ I know you did ; but, Hester, somehow I wish 
these fine ladies hadn’t come here. I cannot join with 
you in wanting to see the proud beauty.” 

“We have no right to say she is proud, Grace ; she 
may be more humble in God’s eyes than either of us. 
We should not judge her ; we cannot see what is in the 
heart.” 

“ We all have our own failings, Hester; you know 
we have always been friends, and you know me too 
well to attribute what I have said to envy. I have 
never been jealous of the attentions you have received 
from rich people, even when 7, who was at your side, 
was not thought of. No, dear Hester, there is nothing 
I love more than to hear you praised. But there is 
something, something almost like a pain in my heart, 
when I think that perhaps you and Miss Falkstone 
may become friends.” 

“We become friends ! ” Hester laughed. “ Miss 
Isabella Falkstone will not seek her friends among the 
cottages of Oakland ; so let your fears, and pain too, 


8 


JUDGE NOT^ 




. >» 
} 


OB^ 


take wing. Why should the ladies at ‘ W est Oakland * 
disturb us more than any of the other rich people 
around?’^ 

“ I don’t know,” Grace said, as she opened the 
church-yard gate. The two girls quietly took their 
seats in their class, and in a little while all outside 
thoughts and feelings were forgotten. 

Again the chimes began, — again the music of the 
deep-toned bells rang forth ; this time to bring the 
worshippers together. Old yew-trees, the willow, and 
the spiral cedar dotted the spacious grave-yard, and in 
their shade many an ancient tomb rose from the tall, 
waving grass, with inscriptions wrought a century 
back, — ah ! and beside them, the ancient dead, the 
new mould, or the wreath of half-withered flowers, told 
another tale of one just gone. ' 

But the bells are still ringing. The soft, delicious air, 
fragrant with blossoms, and the bright, rejoicing sun- 
shine, all lent their charms to make that Sabbath morn 
one of joy and beauty. Groups of men and boys 
thronged the avenues of the yard, and the school- 
children flocking from the chapel ran out to breathe 
the delightful air before taking their seats in church. 
’Squires, in knee-breeches and bright, yellow-topped 
boots, stood around in the porch, waiting until the 
deep roll of the organ should invite them to enter. 
Foot-falls are now ringing forth from the wide stone 
aisles, and the pews are beginning to All. 

The bells have stopped ringing, — the organ ceased 
its- roll, — the foot-falls have died awa}^, and the words, 
‘‘ Rend your hearts, and not j^our garments, and turn 


HESTER POWERS^ GIRLHOOD, 


9 


unto the Lord your God ; for he is gracious and merci- 
ful, slow to anger and of great kindness,” proceeded 
from the reading-desk. 

Hester’s face was turned toward the door, for she 
had caught the rustling sound of dress. Her heart 
gave a bound, and the color crimsoned her face. The 
Falkstone family were coming ; but, although they 
passed close to where she sat, Hester saw but one. 
Her eyes were riveted upon the lovely, delicate feat- 
ures of Miss Falkstone. 

Isabella Falkstone was indeed beautiful ! No gaudy 
colors, no feathers, no flowers, no jewels were worn by 
her. The folds of her delicately embroidered muslin 
seemed to float around her like misty drapery. Once 
only she raised her eyes, and then they met Hester’s. 


CHAPTER 11. 


“ WEST OAKLAND.” 

“ West Oakland ” was an ancient place. The mas- 
sive old stone building had grown gray with age ; its 
gables were overgrown and matted with ivy, and many 
a bat found a secret and secure home ])ehind the deej)- 
green leaf. Its old chambers and halls were panelled 
with cornices of heavy carved work, in which flowers 
and grotesque faces were strangely intermingled ; an- 
cestral relics decorated the walls, and portraits of the 
ancient family of Falkstone hung in gloomy, time-worn 
frames to tell of generations past. 

A vast park extended like a sheet of vivid green 
around the mansion, with here and there clumps of 
giant trees heaping up their rich iDiles of foliage. It 
was a charming place. The solemn pomp of those 
groves ; the pretty woodland glades, with the graceful 
deer trooping in silent herds across the green ; the 
hare bounding to his covert, or the pheasant suddenly 
bursting upon the wing ; the brook babbling along the 
smooth glassy lake ; the sequestered pool reflecting the 
quivering leaf ; the rustic temple, or the sylvan statue, 
grown green and dark with age, — all, all gave to the 

10 


HES'^R powers" girlhood. 


11 


old place an air of classic sanctity, and seemed to offer 
to Isabella Falkstone at once an exhaustless treasury 
of pleasure. Her young, fresh heart drank in the fair 
prospect, and, as she stood at her window, looking 
abroad, her face became radiant. 

“ Bell ! ” a familiar voice called her ; and looking 
around she saw her father. Said he, looking down 
upon her, — he was a man of noble stature, — “ Will 
this make you happy ? ” 

“ Happy ! ” she repeated, clasping her hands. “ It is 
a paradise. Life will seem like a beautiful dream 
here ! ” 

Sir Huston smiled. “ It will have its cares, too, 
child,’’ he said. “ Come ; shall we ride this pleasant 
morning ? ” 

“ Thank you, thank you, papa,” she said, caressingly 
smoothing his hand. “ I should like to above all 
things.” 

The next moment the girl’s clear, silvery voice 
was heard ringing through the house. In habit and 
plume she soon appeared upon the terrace, and spring- 
ing into her saddle. Sir Huston and his daughter 
galloped away, over the green. 

It may seem, perhaps, rather strange to our readers 
to find Isabella Falkstone at sixteen, though beautiful, 
accomplished, and surrounded by all the luxuries of 
life, prefeiTing the retirement of the country to the 
ga3"ety of the city. Her heart was fresh and' joyous 
as that of a child. She loved nature. The trees, the 
birds, and flowers were her friends. 

Her father had himself superintended her education, 


12 


'-’‘JUDGE not;'* or, 


for he saw with pride that she was gifted with a mind 
of no common order. Not only her intellectual culture 
devolved upon him, but her whole moral training. Sir 
Hustonwas a man of stern truth, and just almost to a 
fault. The importance of truth he had most carefully 
inculcated in his child from infancy ; she had received 
it into her heart, and now truth was Isabella’s great 
characteristic ; she would have scorned an empire had 
it been offered to her for one single lie. The rapid 
development and the astonishing progress she made 
encouraged and delighted her father, and rendered his 
life, which had formerly been monotonous, varied and 
interesting. His own faculties, aroused from a lethargy 
which the indolent habits of a man of wealth without 
occupation had induced, started with the freshness and 
force of an ice-bound river loosened from its thraldom. 
Thus the parent and child became inseparable com- 
panions, not only in their daily walks, but there was a 
companionship of thought and feeling between them. 

Isabella’s inquiring mind had led her to look into 
deeper things, — those pertaining to a higher, holier ex- 
istence, — and she, too, was looking forward to the time 
when it would be her privilege to publicly consecrate 
herself to God’s service. They were just emerging from 
a little copse, which brought them suddenly to the sum- 
mit of a hill which commahded a view of the country 
around. 

“ This is the life I shall love,” said Isabella, as they 
stopped to look upon this enchanting picture. ‘ ‘ Oh, how 
pleasant it is,” she said, “ to think that now such 
scenes will alwa^’-s be accessible to me ! ” Slowly they 


HESTER powers' GIRLHOOD. 


13 


returned home, for at every turn new beauties pre- 
sented themselves. 

“ This is far better than being shut up in London, 
father,” Isabella said. 

“ I think so myself,” her father answered. “ There 
is perhaps one thing you have not yet thought of, 
daughter ; I may have to be away from you often for 
weeks.” 

Isabella gave her reins a jerk, which brought her 
horse to a stand-still. She had not thougl;t of being 
separated from her father. 

“ It will be painful to us both. Bell ; more so, 
because you have not provided yourself with com- 
panions.” 

“You and mamma have always been so much with 
me that I have not found them necessary ; but I am 
sure we shall be gloomy without you, papa.” 

Isabella had known but very few of the sorrows of 
life, and she contemplated her father’s absence as a 
great trial. She was thoughtful, as they rode on to- 
ward home, and for the first time in her life she wished 
for a companion whom she could love, and who would 
enjoy rambling with her through that beautiful park. 


CHAPTER III. 


THE VILLAGE FESTIVAL. 

It was evening ; lights shone from curious lamps 
within, filling the richly furnished apartments of 
“ West Oakland ” with a glow of splendor. Without, 
upon the terrace, enjoying the tender twilight as it 
stole over the landscape, were Isabella and her parents. 
The shadows were gathering darker and darker over 
the woods, and the song of the nightingale or the hoot 
of the owl came by turns upon the ear. Many visitors 
had been at the Hall that day, but one by one they 
had left again. It was delightful to Lady Falkstone 
to find herself - able to enjoy so beautiful an evening 
undisturbed ; to be alone just with her husband and 
daughter ; for, though exceedingly fond of society, it 
was pleasant sometimes to feel free from its restraint. 
They had heard, during the day, that there was to be 
a village festival held, in honor of their arrival at 
“West Oakland,” on the next day, on the village 
green, it was said. Isabella was very desirous of 
gaining all the information she could about it. 

“We will ride over during the. morning,” Sir 
Huston said. 


14 - 


HESTER POWERS* GIRLHOOD, 


15 


“Yes, that will be pleasant,” Lady Falkstone 
answered. “ I love to witness these rural merry-mak- 
ings myself.” 

“ In my boyhood I used to love to join in such 
sport,” said Sir Huston, “ and even now the re- 
membrance of those bright days, the gay laughing 
faces, and the graceful forms of the village maidens 
whirling round the May-pole, seems almost to bring 
back my youthful feelings again.” 

“Will it be anything like a May-party?” Isabella 
asked. She had often read of those merry times, and 
of the dances on the village green ; but she had never 
seen one. “ I know,” she said, “ if there is to be a 
queen in the festival to-morrow, I am sure I can guess 
who will be chosen ! ” 

“ You know ! How?” asked her mother. 

“ It will be that pretty girl I saw at church on Sun- 
day. She was so beautiful, that I could not help look- 
ing at her, her eyes were so large and blue. I should 
love to know her,” said Isabella. 

“ I have no doubt that she would be very happy to 
have you for a friend. Miss Falkstone,” said Sir 
Huston, laughing. 

“You are a singular girl, Isabella,” said Lady 
Falkstone, rather gravely. “ Among the host of young 
ladies you have met with in your own sphere, you could 
find none worthy of your confidence or love. You 
surely would not wish to select a companion from 
among the cottagers’ children?” 

“ There were many I should have loved very much, 
mamma, of those I have known in my own rank, if our 


16 


“ JUDGE not;^' oe, 

tastes bad been congenial. Most 3^oung ladies love 
gayety ; I do not. I might not even like the pretty 
village maiden, for I know I am so peculiar.” 

“ I wish you were not so much so,” said Sir Huston. 
“In this retired place you will want friends of your 
own age.” 

“Well, papa, and if I should want very much to 
know that pretty village girl, would there be harm, or 
disgrace in it ? ” 

“None in the least, my daughter. I have known 
many very excellent people holding humble positions 
in life. Though it is not well, I think, to make friends 
or companions of those so far beneath us in point of 
birth ; difficulties arise sometimes.” 

Sir Huston and his lady went into the house, while 
Isabella still remained out upon the terrace quietly 
watching the rising moon, as it began to silver the tops 
of the distant wood. There were many others enjoying 
this pleasant evening beside the Falkstones, — Hester 
Powers and her friend Grace, among the rest. They 
were still walking up and down, outside the former's 
cottage garden, talking of the morrow's expected 
pleasures. 

Many of the girls were to have new dresses brought 
from the next town, and, for more than a week, the 
village dress-maker had been kept busy. Hester and 
Grace were both to wear pure white muslins, trimmed 
with green leaves. 

Since Sundaj^, Hester had not spoken of Miss Falk- 
stone to Grace, though she had thought very much 
about her, and now, as they walked together, she 


HESTER POWERS GIRLHOOD. 


17 


wanted to ask Grace if she thought the Falkstones 
would come over to see the flower-dance ; but while 
she was considering whether to speak of them or not, 
Grace said, — 

“ Hester, you haven’t told me so, but I know that 
you expect more pleasure from seeing the fine people 
from ‘ West Oakland,’ than in any of the dances. 
Something tells me that they will be there, and that 
you are to become acquainted with the young lady.” 

“Do you think so?” said Hester, warmly. “I would 
give anything just to have her speak to me. Isn’t she 
beautiful ? ” 

“ Yes, she is,” said Grace ; “ but if you will take my ad- 
vice, you will not seek to know her. For my part, I be- 
lieve as father and mother do, — that people are far hap- 
pier and better off when they keep in their proper places.” 

“ Grace, how strangely you talk ! I have no thought 
of trying to be a fine lady. I am very happy just as I 
am ; but if I should be fortunate enough to have Miss 
Falkstone’s friendship, I should not throw it away. 
You would not, I’m sure.” 

“ I did not mean to offend you, Hester,” said Grace, 
taking her friend’s hand ; “ don’t let us part so.” They 
kissed each other, and said “ Good-night.” 

At daylight on the next morning men and boys 
were busy at their interesting task of making arches, 
decorated with evergreens and flowers, and in prepar- 
ing the flower-hoops for the children, and by and by 
there was most truly a lively scene upon the village 
green. Young girls in pure white muslins, looped 
with siniple flowers, or festooned with leaves, and 
2 


18 


JUDGE not;” OB. 


heads garlanded with fragrant blossoms, were ready, 
hoop in hand, to begin the dance, — Hester and Grace 
' conspicuous as the chief actors in the merry scene. 
They were in high spirits, but as dance after dance 
was concluded, and time slipped by, Hester began to 
lose her wonted interest ; her eyes travelled from 
group to group, from hill to dell, but the Falkstones 
were not to be seen. Hester strove to hide her dis- 
appointment from Grace, who she saw was watching 
her. 

There are plenty here without them,’’ said Grace, 
smiling, and pointing to the many handsome vehicles 
around, and the gi’oups of ladies and gentlemen smil- 
ing and showering bunches of garden-flowers among the 
shouting children. 

But some way, Hester would be disappointed. 

‘‘Is it vanity, or curiosity?” Grace asked herself, 
as she stood looking at Hester’s pretty face, which was 
half turned from her. “ It is no^ like Hester to be 
vain.” 

Bather out of patience, Grace turned away, and 
joined in the dance just commencing, leaving Hester 
leaning against a tree. The mellow sunlight was 
shining through her rich and abundant curls, tipping 
the ends with gold ; unconsciously she toyed with her 
flower-hoop, while her blue eyes wandered away over 
the beautiful landscape. She was standing thus, when 
three equestrians rode over the brow of the hill at her 
back. 

The Falkstones were coming now, and. Isabella, in 
her closely fltting habit, and small, plumed hat, looked 


HESTER POWERS^ GIRLHOOD, 


19 


just as lovely as she had in her beautiful embroidered 
muslin, on the previous Sunday. She had caught 
sight of Hester leaning against the tree, and ex- 
claimed, — 

‘‘ There.! there is the girl I saw on Sunday I Look, 
father 1 » 

“ She holding the hoop?**’ inquired Lady Falkstone. 
“ She surely is not a villager’s daughter?” 

“ Yes, she is, mamma ; let us ride nearer.” 

Isabella gave her horse a sudden touch, which 
started him forward, and it was only when he came 
near to the tree, that he wheeled around, almost in 
front of Hester, causing her at the moment a considera- 
ble fright. The hoop fell from her hand, and a shower 
of leaves dropped around her. In a moment Sir 
Huston had sprung from his saddle, and picking up 
the hoop, carried it to Hester with the same courtly 
air and apology that he would have offered to a 
princess. The blushing girl received it with a smile 
and courtesy, and would have retired, had not Isabella 
come forward to ask some questions about the children, 
who were still dancing, and to say how sorry she was 
to have destroyed the beauty of the hoop. 

‘‘ Oh, it does not matter now 1 ” Hester said, “ for I 
have finished dancing.” 

Lady Falkstone could not take her eyes from Hes- 
ter’s face, and more than once she whispered to Sir 
Huston, “ How pretty she is ! ” 

Isabella was delighted with the children’s fun, and 
wished from her heart that she could have joined 
them. 


20 JUDGE NOT.” 

The country people gathered nearer and nearer, and 
Sir Huston stood with one arm thrown over the back 
of his pawing steed, chatting pleasantly first with one 
and then another. * 

All Hester’s weariness and disappointment had 
gone, and Grace saw, by her friend’s manner and 
quickly changing color, that she was most truly happy ; 
for Isabella and even Lady Falkstone were still talking 
with her. 

Grace was not jealous, but she had gotten the idea 
that Hester and Isabella Falkstone were destined to 
become friends, which intimacy would result un- 
pleasantly to Hester; and the more she strove to 
banish such a fancy, the stronger the conviction grew 
within her. 

The midday sun soon became unpleasantly warm, 
and the persons who had gathered as spectators began 
to disperse as Sir Huston mounted again, and as their 
horses turned from the green, a shout arose from the 
children, ^‘Long live the lord and lady of ‘West 
Oakland.!’” 


f CHAPTEK IV. 


ISABELLA AND HELEn’s WALK. 

It was nearly a week after the village festival that 
Isabella ventured to walk beyond the park ; she had 
frequently gone out alone, since their residence at 
“West Oakland,” but never beyond the limits of her 
father’s grounds. 

It was a delightful morning, and the air was merry 
with the song of birds. Isabella had been lured into 
one of those prett}^ lanes, which abound in England, too 
narrow for vehicles of any kind to drive through ; so 
the turf was delightfully green and spangled all over 
with buttercups and daisies. The path led to the village, 
and Isabella walked on and on, plucking the primroses, 
until she came to a pretty little, clear brook, by which 
she sat down. It was so pleasant to listen to the birds, 
and she only intended to sit there a few moments and 
then return home; but the way beyond looked so in- 
viting that she ventured still further. But by and by 
she had gone too far ; . she was close upon the village. 
While she was standing to think a moment of the 
distance between her and home, Hester came down 
through the village street with a bundle in her arms. 

21 


22 


“ JUDGE NOT ; ** ORf 


Isabella beckoned to her. “ I have come a long distance 
from home,” she said, “ and am afraid I may miss my 
way going back ; for I remember to have passed other 
lanes.” 

“ I will go back with you. Miss Falkstone,” Hester 
said, with a blush. “ I have been to the Hall by this 
way often when Sir Richard lived here.” 

“ And can you go back with me now? ” 

. Hester looked down upon her bundle, and blushed 
deeper than before, as she said, “ If you could wait 
just a minute ; mother will be wanting this work.” 
And she walked a few steps nearer to the hedge, and 
pointed to a cottage standing on the brow of the hill, — 
“ That is our house.” 

“ Well, I will walk with you,” Isabella said. “ I should 
like to see your home.” So they went up the hill to- 
gether. 

The girls were both slightly formed, and Isabella’s 
dress was almost as simple as that of her companion’s. 
A stranger could have detected no difference in their 
social position as they appeared then. They both 
wore ringlets, and their faces, equally pretty, were 
shaded alike by little rustic hats. 

“ Oh, this is a sweet place ! ” Isabella said, as Hester 
opened the garden-gate of her cottage. She looked 
almost surprised at the repose, the order, and, neatness 
everywhere around. The honeysuckle and jessamine 
were trained together neatly over the little thatched 
porch, while a large rose-bush, filled with buds and 
flowers, stood on either side of the doorway. The 
double daisy look-up-and-kiss-me, the daffodil, and 


HESTER powers' GIRLHOOD, 


23 


wall-flower nodded their perfumed heads in the pleasant 
breeze. 

Isabella was charmed ; and to her the pretty thatched 
cottage, with its vines and flowers, looked almost as 
inviting as her own home, with its turrets and decora- 
tions, its conservatories and statues. 

Nancy Powers met the girls at the door. She 
courtesied very low, and blushed too, as she invited 
Miss Falkstone into the cottage. Never had the 
thrifty housewife felt herself to be more fortunate. 
She had just flnished cleaning up, and had fresh sanded 
the floor ; there wasn’t a thing out of place. 

Isabella could not help seeing how white the bed- 
quilt was, how neat the window-blinds, how bright 
the brass fender on the whitewashed hearth, and even 
the old fashioned candlesticks on the mantels ; and 
then she saw that the work which lay upon the little 
deal table before the window was fine. 

“ Do you take in sewing? ” Isabella asked. 

“ Oh, yes, miss,” answered Nancy, with a low 
courtesy. “ I can do the finest of needle-work. I 
sarved apprenticeship to hit, when I were young.” 

“ And could you do some for us? I think I heard 
mamma say she would be glad to have some done.” 

Again Nancy courtesied. “ I should be powerful 
glad to sarve you, miss. I used to get just as much as 
I could do ; but some of the gentry be gone oflT, and 
we that have our livin’ to get miss their work.” 

“ I suppose so,” said Isabella, in a tender voice. 
“ Are there many very poor in the village? ” 

“ Not so over many, miss,” replied Nancy. “ ‘ Oak- 


24 “ JUDGE not; ” oi?, 

land ’ be a thrifty place ; but there be some old souls 
that bint hable to do nothin* now.’* 

“I must get papa to find them out,** said Isabella, 
thoughtfully. ‘‘ I will tell papa and mamma about 
it,** she said, “ and I am sure they will do all they can 
to make the villagers happy.** 

The gi*eat old eight-day clock standing in the corner, 
with time and the world moving mysteriously on his 
face, struck eleven. Isabella sprang to her feet. “ I 
have been from home two hours. Shall we go now ? ’* 
She bade Mrs. Powers good-morning, and she and 
Hester went out together. 

“ Well, now, that’s fine ; that’s luck sure and 
sartain,” said Nancy, as she watched the girls going 
over the hill. “ My ’Ester’s as purty as the best of ’em, 
and bless ’er, she’ll be the making of the hull of us.” 

She actually laughed as she sat in the window-bench 
and began to sew. The poor woman already fancied 
Hester a fine lady in a fine house, with perhaps a ser- 
vant to do her work. ‘‘ She warn’t born to be a 
drudge nohow,” said Nancy, aloud. Looking up, she 
saw Grace Homes coming into the garden. “ Just 
to think, Grace, ’Ester’s gone off to the ’all with the 
young lady ’erself.” 

“ I saw them,” Grace said, quietly, and then began 
to talk of something else. But Mrs. Powers was too 
full of what she termed Hester’s good fortune, to 
think of anything else. 

“’Twill be such a *elp to *er, Grace, you know, — 
a sort of lift in life ; hit ’ill set ’er up finely.” 

“ I can’t see how,” Grace said, in the same quiet 


HESTER powers' GIRLHOOD. 


25 


way. “ Hester's getting acquainted with rich folks 
won’t make her rich ; and even if it were to, Hester 
wouldn’t be a bit happier than she is now in her quiet 
little cottage. For my part, I wish Hester would keep 
to her old ways ! ” 

“Well, as for that,” answered Nancy, rather 
sharply, “ ’Ester’s a good right as hanybody to better 
’erself. Who knows if she mightn’t get to go up to 
Lonnon some time, and pick up wey somebody better 
to do than a country clown ! ” There was a pleasant 
little twinkle in her eye as she spoke. 

Grace was perfectly astonished. She did not know 
what to say, and as soon as she could, she went home, 
determining never again to say a word against Hester’s 
becoming acquainted at “West Oakland.” 

In the mean time Isabella and Hester had reached 
the park. They, like most girls, had found plenty to 
talk about as they walked along, and had, in reality 
become much interested in each other. And already 
Miss Falkstone felt as if she had found a friend. She 
was a simple-hearted, affectionate girl, without any of 
the foolish prejudices against poverty or humble 
positions. She did not care for gayety, or to live ex- 
clusively a fashionable life. All she desired was a 
companion she could love, — one who could enjoy the 
beautiful scenery around her home with her, — one 
whose tastes and fancies were congenial with her own. 
Hester seemed to be just the friend she wanted, and 
the two girls were soon familiarly talking. Hester 
knew of many a pretty walk which Isabella was a 
stranger to, and as they walked side by side through 


26 


“ JUDGE not; ” Oi?, 

the park, there was a sort of understanding, not . in so 
many words, but by intuition rather, that they were to 
visit these pretty places together. Sir Huston and his 
lady were of course not a little surprised to see their 
daughter and the cottage fs daughter already so familiar, - 
for they were coming toward the mansion hand in 
hand ! Lady Falkstone did not feel exactly pleased 
to see it ; but Sir Huston only smiled, and said, “ They 
seem absolutely suited to each other; she will be just 
the one to explore the country and botanize with 
Isabella.’’ 

Hester felt quite nervous as she saw the gentleman* 
coming to meet them ; but when she saw that he was 
smiling pleasantly, she felt better, though she trembled, 
and blushed so deeply, that she could scarcely answer 
the questions he put to her about her home and parents. 

“ O papa, you must go to the village ! It is so 
pretty, and Hester’s father has the sweetest cottage in 
the place,” Isabella said. And then she told him how it 
was that she had arrived there ; about the old people 
whom Nancy had spoken of, and then she went to his 
side to ask if Hester might not come over on the 
next day to walk with her. 

Isabella’s requests were always granted, and Sir 
Huston himself told Hester that he should be glad if 
she would come and walk with his daughter, provided 
it would not interfere with her duties at home. 

Hester assured him that it would not in any way .; that 
she 'helped' her mother to sew when "she had a good 
deal of work, but that now she had but little on hand ; 
then with a courtesy she turned to go. 


HESTER powers' GIRLHOOD. 


27 


Hester walked until she got to the edge of the copse, 
and then she ran, — ran just as fast as she could go ; she 
was so full of happy excitement. In Sir Richard’s 
time she had been permitted to go into the grounds 
whenever she chose ; every pretty shady lane, every 
flowery nook, she was familiar with ; even the trout 
streams she could angle in. He, poor old gentleman, 
called her his little “ primrose,” and loved to lead her 
through the half-closed, grim-looking chambers of the 
mansion. She thought of those days as she ran home- 
ward, and really rejoiced to think that even now she 
might have the same privileges granted to her. 

Never had Mrs. Powers been in such a state of de- 
light. “ You shall put on yer best frock to-morrow, 
child,” she said, as she smoothed a few of Hester’s curls 
which had become a little roughened by the breeze. 
“Your father, now, is such a quar man, he didn’t say 
nothin’ when I told him you’d gone to the ’all long the 
young lady. Never a syllable did he put out, till I said 
hit ’ill be the makin’ of the gal. Then, forsooth, he 
said, ‘ Nancy taint the wisest of things to stufi* a maid’s 
mind wey big notions ; ’ and there’s Grace Homes, too, 
a prating up her stuff and nonsense.” 

“ Mother,” Hester said, “ Miss Falkstone seems to 
be such a sweet girl, — not a bit proud, — • that I don’t 
think it will do me any harm. I will try not to let her 
friendship make me vain.” 

“I know— -I know,” said Nancy. “ I^on’t hany- 
body know that ’tis a good thing for people to get such 
big people as them yonder, to be a speakin’ and a nod- 


28 


'■'’JUDGE not;” ORf 

din’ to a body? I tell you,* child, them that speaks 
agin hit, is just a envying of you, and nothing else.” 

Henceforward Nancy’s life was one of constant study 
to have Hester appear to the best advantage, and by 
applying herself more industriously to her needle, 
by pinching here and there, a new dress or a fresh sup- 
ply of ribbons were 'occasionally added to Hester’s 
stock ; for it had become a regular thing for her to go 
to “ West Oakland” every morning. 

This state of things made Grace very sad at times. 
She fancied that Hester was forgetting that the time 
was drawing near when they both expected to be 
confirmed. Grace was a sober, sensible girl, — she 
was the main-stay of her little home. For whole 
days, while her father and mother were out to .work, 
she took charge of the children and the cottage, 
acting the part of a little womhn | and never failing to 
have order and neatness around, the childi’en’s faces 
washed, and their heads neatly combed Jby the time 
tired mother came home in the evening ; ^Dulik amidst her 
duties she found time to think very much about her 
young friend. She was the older of the two, and 
thought that perhaps it would not be amiss to niention 
her fears to' Hester. An opportunity soon presented 
itself; for Hester very often called in at Grace’s cot- 
tage as she came back from “ West Oakland.” This 
evening Grace was busy mending, and the children 
were at plaj' ; so it was just the time for a quiet talk. 
They sat together as they had often done before, and 
Grace mentioned her fears., * 

“ Don’t be a bit afraid about me, dear Grace,” Hes-' 


HESTER POWERS* GIRLHOOD, 


29 


ter said; “I am not forgetting my religious duties; 
and I will tell you a secret. Miss Isabella will be con- 
firmed at the same time we are ; and I do assure you 
that we have very nice talks about religion sometimes. 
If you knew Miss Falkstone as I do, Grace, you would 
love her ; and Sir Huston and Lady Falkstone are so 
kind to me. Mother has just, as much sewing as she 
can do."^ " • 

“ Well, Hester, you will not think hard" of me for 
being anxious, will you? We have been such friends 
all our lives, you know.’’ 

“‘Think hard, of you! no, indeed! dear Grace. 
You may alwa3"s say wLat you like to me ; for we shall 
always be good friends. I don’t forget you because I 
go to the Hall every day.” 

After this little conversation Grace felt better, and 
was no longer afraid that Hester’s thoughts would be 
turned from religion by her intimacy with Miss Falk- 
stone. 


CHAPTER V. 


CONFIRMATION. 

Some thought that it was a fine thing, indeed, for 
Hester Powers to be taken hold of by the gentry at the 
Hall. A few of the village people called her a lucky 
girl, w^hile others, -less disposed to think well of the 
existing friendship between her and Miss Falkstone, 
talked around their cottage doors, saying “ that by and 
by she would forget her old friends, — be too high and 
too proud to speak to them.” There were many who 
were envious of Hester’s position as companion to the 
3"oung lady of “ West Oakland,” and did not spare 
unkind words. But Hester, ignorant of the way her 
neighbors talked, went on from day to day very quiet- 
ly. Sometimes she would be with Isabella all day 
long, walking, or examining into the mysteries of the 
spacious rooms of the mansion. Often, they would 
spend hours together, under the shade of some noble 
tree, to watch the herds of deer scampering over the 
open ground to the groves, or in listening to the birds 
as they trilled forth their pretty songs ; at other times, 
like children, they gathered the little wild fiowers, and 
made wreaths of them for the necks of the greyhounds - 

30 


HESTER POWERS* GIRLHOOD. 


31 


frisking at their sides. They were happy days to them 
both. Hester had won the esteem of Sir Huston, and 
even Lady Falkstone was glad to see Isabella so happy 
in her friend. Their time being fully occupied in mak- 
ing improvements around them, the girls necessarily 
were left much together. Often they were made Lady 
Falkstone’s almoners to the neighboring poor. The 
aged, whose bent forms and whitened locks told that 
the winters were passing, rejoiced now that the hearts 
of the rich were disposed toward them ; yes, they 
smiled as they sat in the chimney corners smoking 
their clay pipes. 

“ Ay, the Lord bless tern,” said an old man, as he 
ate the savory soup sent from the Hall. “ It war a 
good thing that Old Sir Richard’s money went into gen- 
erous hands. Now we gets a bite of some’ot good, 
once in a while.” 

Almost every day Hester’s little basket contained 
something sent to a cottager from “West Oakland.” 
Sometimes a garment, or a little wine, or a pot of jelly 
for the sick ; and there were very few found now to say 
aught against her. On the contrary, her presence was 
hailed with delight, and although many praised, no 
one, even among those who had predicted that she would 
get above her station, — no one could yet see that Hes- 
ter had lost any of the simplicity she possessed before 
she knew Miss Falkstone. 

But the autumn had come, and the time was draw- 
ing near for the Bishop to visit that parish, to 
receive into the church all wishing to make a public 
profession of faith. A rich October morning it was, 


32 JUDGE not;^* oe, 

when our three young’ friends, Isabella, Hester, and 
Grace, with many others, knelt around the chancel, 
and received the holy rite of confirmation. It was an 
interesting occasion ; and none present were more sol- 
emnly impressed by it than were Sir Huston and his 
lady. They saw those social distinctions so rigid on 
earth dissolved, as it were, by the solemn vow which 
recognized prince and peasant as children of one 
heavenly Parent, and heirs alike of an inheritance 
incorruptible. Much as they had learned to like our 
heroine, it had not always been agreeable for them to 
answer questions, and to say that she^was only a cot- 
tager’s daughter ; that sort of feeling, however, was 
d3dng out, and the bond between the girls growing 
daily stronger. They were now equals in Christ ; both 
subjects of true piety ; religion did not make them 
gloomy, or less calculated to enjoy the beautiful world. 
Their bright, happy voices threw a charm around the 
once gloomy mansion, filling it with joy and sunshine ; 
even when the cooler November days came, and the 
rains and winds of autumn kept them in-doors, 
they found plenty to interest them ; for a large bale of 
good warm fabrics had come down from London, — 
bought with Isabella’s own pin-money, — and it was 
realty a very pretty sight, to watch her delicate fingers 
stitching away on clothes for the poor old women and ' 
children of the village. Yes ; Miss Falkstone’s pretty 
dressing-room was a busy place. Nice piles of finished 
garments lay around ready to be given away when the 
biting frosts should come. 

Nor were Sir Huston and Lady Falkstone unmind- 


HESTER POWERS GIRLHOOD, 


33 


fill of those whom they felt were in a measure com- 
mitted to their care. “ The poor ye have always with 
you.” There were plenty of them everywhere. The 
castle and the cot were side by side there, and those 
who had been turned away from “ West Oakland” with 
rough words in Sir Richard’s time were now employed 
and fed. In Sir Huston, the deserving poor found a 
valuable friend, but the loungers around the tavern 
doors and breakers of the law met with but little 
clemency. He was a stern and rigid advocate of 
punishment, believing that through it alone vice and 
crime could be restrained. Poaching, which had been 
heretofore a common, every-day occurrence, was now 
hardly thought of, although all Sir Richard’s traps had 
been removed, and those so inclined could have ven- 
tured into forbidden grounds without endangering their 
necks. The present master of “West Oakland” was 
himself a famous hunter, and he thought it better to 
give certain young men the benefit of a day’s sport 
with him, rather than try to keep them out of his 
grounds by spikes and traps. Thus he soon gained 
the respect and good opinion of all classes, and it was 
wonderful to see the improvement in the moral condi- 
tion of the peasantry around the village of Oakland 
already beginning to develop itself. Day schools 
were instituted for the children, and night schools for 
the ' lad's” and lasses who were employed through the 
d^y. Yes, and even men and women were willing to 
give a couple of candles and a penny a week for the 
privilege of being taught to read and write. 

A very pleasant change had taken place, a more in- 
3 


34 JUDGE NOT.*' 

dustrious spirit had taken possession of the people, 
because they were no longer oppressed, but rather en- 
couraged to work, and were paid for their labor. 

Isabella’s comfortable clothing came in well ; for the 
approaching winter threatened to be severe, and as the 
old people and children crouched around the fires, many 
a blessing was called down upon the heads of those 
who had so generously supplied them with comforts. 

Isabella and Hester were happy. Their lives seemed 
to be separated from all the ills of life ; both gifted 
with rare beauty, in the enjoyment of every temporal 
blessing. Was it a wonder that they were envied? 


CHAPTER VI. 


CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS. 

The Christmas holidays had come. Brisk fires 
blazed in the chimney places of the cottages ; ever- 
greens were arched over high mantel-pieces, and used 
to decorate curious-looking pictures of the Lion and 
the Unicorn, George and the Dragon, good Queen Bess, 
or some grim-visaged warrior. The youth of both 
sexes sat around the glowing hearth-stone, looking 
eagerly among the- red embers for the nuts placed 
upon them to burst and reveal some future good 
fortune. 

Children’s thick jmrn hose hung beside high bed- 
posts ready for a penny whistle or perchance a few 
candies, while the keen frosty breeze rattled dry 
branches against the windows, or whistled down the 
chimneys, and brought the song of the serenaders in at 
every open door. 

It was a meiT}^ Christmas-eve at “ Oakland,” and 
as old men and women sat in the chimney corners 
they grew merry over the prospect of a feast which 
they had been led to expect the master of “ West Oak- 
land ” to give them, during the holiday week. 

3.1 


36 


JUDGE NOT 


(( 


. »> 
} 


OE, 


At “West Oakland,” many guests bad already 
arrived. The halls, stairways, and corridors of the 
mansion were handsomely lined with rare plants and 
flowers brought from the conservatories, and while the 
cottagers were enjoying themselves, in their simple 
way, in laughing games, and general merriment, a 
brilliant company were assembling in the grand draw- 
ing-rooms at “ West Oakland.” There were lords and 
ladies attired in the fashion of the day ; diamonds, 
rubies, and pearls, powdered wigs, satins, and laces, 
each in turn were presented to Hester’s wondering 
eyes, as she stood in a retired corner of the hall to 
watch the guests as they passed under the blazing 
lights. It was her custom to go home quite early in 
the afternoon ; but this evening she had stayed to see 
the fine dresses. Hester was still looking on the 
scene, when Isabella came toward her. 

“ Oh,” she exclaimed, “ how beautiful ! ” 

Isabella Falkstone was indeed beautiful ! Pier dress 
was of pale blue, covered with costly lace, and con- 
fined at the waist by a girdle of pearls. Her fair neck 
and arms needed no ornament. A few little flowers 
rested upon her bosom, and a small spray of brilliants 
shone like stars among the braids of her rich hair. 

“ Good-night, Hester,” she said, kissing her friend. 
“ You will be here in the morning? ” 

“Oh, 5^es ! ” answered Hester. “ How really 
beautiful you look ; and what a pretty ornament that 
is in your hair, it sparkles so ! ” 

“I think it is very pretty,” was Isabella’s reply. 


HESTER POWERS GIRLHOOD » 


37 


“ Papa gave it to me this evening. I don’t care for 
jewelry, but this I do like.” 

They parted. One to join the festivities in the 
mansion, the other the Christmas merry-making in the 
cottage. 

Hester found her father waiting for her in the 
servants’ hall, and they walked around to the front of 
the mansion, for the whole was illuminated^ and they 
could plainly see the richly dressed people moving 
through the spacious rooms. 

“Well, them who be born to enjoy the like, kin for 
me,” said Simon. “I be as ’appy as I keer to be, 
bless the Lord ! Pull yer shawl around ye, child ; the 
wind be some’ot bleak here on the ’ill.” 

“ Yes,” Hester said, “ home is home to me. I am 
always glad to come back to our own little cottage. 
See how nice it looks now, father ! ” 

“ I don’t want a better,” said the old man. “ See 
how nice it looks, sure enough ! ” 

The cottage door stood open, and the warm light 
from a good fire streamed out over the garden. 

“ The neighbors, I reckon, be in with Nancy,” said 
Simon, as the sound of cheerful voices met their ears. 

Simon was right. The best room of their cottage 
was full ; one by one they had dropped in, mostly out 
of curiosity, for one of the hall servants had been seen 
to bring a basket to Simon Powers’ cottage just before 
dark. It was directed to Hester, and it stood, now, 
just as it had been sent, upon the little deal work- 
table. 

“ Ah, who’s so lucky as you, Hester ! ” cried several 


38 


JUDGE not;^’ oe, 


voices, as she and her father entered. Here be gifts 
for 5'e ; come and see ! 

Hester stood by the basket and examined the 
label. It was Isabella’s writing, and Hester’s eyes 
danced with pleasure. As she stood in the light with 
cheeks crimsoned by the bracing winds, even the 
neighbors were struck with her beauty. Two Christ- 
mas candies were placed on the table, and the basket 
was opened. It contained a pretty dress and some 
gloves and collars, together with several other pretty 
gifts, suggestive of Lady Falkstone’s and Isabella’s 
affection for her. At the bottom of the basket there 
was a little note wishing her a Merry Christmas, and 
by it a pretty little broach formed from a cluster of 
forget-me-nots set in a circlet of leaves. This pin was 
a costly gift for Hester, and, as it was not mentioned 
in the note, she feared that there was some mistake 
about it. Might it not have dropped into the basket 
accidentally? She asked herself the question while 
standing with her back to the company, who were ex- 
amining the other presents. No one had seen the pin, 
not even her mother, and Hester put it in her pocket 
with a sort of troubled, trembling feeling. She read 
the note again ; it was couched in the most affectionate 
language, and then she turned to her friends and 
answered their numerous questions respecting the 
gayety at the hall, the dress, and so forth. 

Hester was glad to oblige, and interest her friends, 
but she was not sorry to see them, one after another, 
go. She wanted to be alone with her parents ; beside, 


HESTER POTTERS* GIRLHOOD, 


39 


the little broach in her pocket seemed to have troubled 
her. 

“ What ails thee, child?” asked Simon. “ Where’s 
thee brightness gone ? ” 

“ Ay, sure Hester dear ; has hanythin’ ’appened to 
ye?” 

Nancy looked frightened, for the very thought of 
trouble coming to Hester made her grow pale. 

“ Nothing has happened, dear mother,” Hester said, 
quietly, “ but I am puzzled. I’ll tell you. One after- 
noon, a good while ago. Miss Falkstone was showing 
me some beautiful jewelry, ornaments for the hair, and 
waists, and wrists, and oli ! such a quantity of broaches 
and rings, some of which were very old, and queer- 
looking, and had been in the Falkstone family very 
many years. But among the whole lot there was but 
one little broach that I took a liking for. I remember 
telling Isabella how pretty I thought it, and to-night 
the same pin lay in the bottom of the basket ! See, 
here it is ! ” 

“ And because she gave it to you, arter ye war so 
ill-mannered to praise it, does that bother thee innocent 
heart?” said Simon, with a laugh. ‘‘ Sure child, thee’s 
got the soul o’ a babe yet. God bless thee ! ” 

“ If she did give it to me, father ! ” 

‘‘ If ? ” said the old man,“ humph ! lassy, what do you 
mean? Would hanybody in Christendom call ye a 
pilferer ? I tell ye, child, ye war born o’ a honest race. 
The Powers’ folk ha’ no blotch upon their name.” 

“ O father ! ” said Hester, laying her hand upon his 
arm, “ I don’t think any one would be cruel enough to 


40 


JUDGE not;” oe, 


say such a thing. The only thing that troubled me 
about this pin was, that I don’t think Miss Falkstone’s 
maid likes me. She seems displeased when I receive 
anything, and I feared that perhaps, the broach might 
have been dropped into the basket.” 

“ As to that,” said Nancy, “the broach ye can carry 
over again wey ye in the morning.” 

“ And for a speck of woman’s jealousy, ye may put 
that down for naught,” chimed in Simon, “ for women, 
like dogs, do a heap o’ barking, but somehow, they 
seldom bites. Cheer up, ye timid child. Nancy, 
haint ye got some’ot good to-night ? ” 

The -good housewife soon brought forth something 
inviting, and after it had been partaken of, the little 
family retired. 

Christmas morning dawned, and merrily the old 
chimes rang out their joyful peals, and merrily the rosy- 
faced village urchins seized their woollen hose, merrily 
the little red-breasts twittered on the window sills, 
and brightly the sun arose to usher in the anniversary 
of our Saviour’s birth. It was a glorious morning, 
and Hester started early to “ West Oakland,” for she 
was to eat her Christmas dinner at home. Grace and 
some few of her village friends were to dine with her. 
So she tripped along briskly over the frosty ground. 
She entered the mansion, and ascended the great stair- 
way without meeting with any of the family, for it was 
the breakfast hour at “ West Oakland.” Servants 
were passing to and fro, from room to room, but none 
exactly near enough to speak to her, until she was 
near to Isabella’s apartments, then Lady Falkstone’s 


HESTER POWERS* GIRLHOOD. 


41 


maid, making her appearance, she ascertained that the 
young lady was at breakfast. 

Hester stepped into the dressing-room, expecting 
Isabella to come very soon. How rich and charming 
this pretty room appeared to her, in its half-confused 
state ! It had a south front, and the bright sunshine 
came in so warm and dazzling through the large bay 
window, which was wide open. Hester was all in a 
glow of heat with her walk, so she sat .down in the re- 
cess, with her hood and cloak on, to wait, and revolv- 
ing in her mind how she should thank Isabella for her 
.great kindness, and what she should say about the 
pretty forget-me-not brooch. Still hearing nothing of 
the young lady, she took the little note she had re- 
ceived the night before from her pocket, and read it 
over and over, and was about to put it back, when 
some sound startled her. In her nervous excitement 
she crushed the note into her pocket. The color 
rushed to her face, for Isabella, the author of it, was 
close to her. Silly girl ! What if Isabella had caught 
her reading it? But Hester was a nervous girl-, — she 
did not tak5 time to think. * 

Isabella’s pleasant manner, and “ Merry Christmas,” 
soon restored her to composure, and she thanked her 
friend in her own peculiarly sweet way, for the gifts 
she had received on the evening before. 

“ This brooch, dear Isabella, did you intend it for 
me ? I could not wear so costly an ornament, you 
know.” 

“ And why not, Hester? It is but a simple forget- 


42 


JUDGE not;’’ oe, 

me-not. Yes, I gave it to you, and you must wear it 
for my sake.” 

For more than an hour afterward they talked pleas- 
antly together, when Isabella remembered that she had 
promised to join a riding party at ten o’clock. It was 
time for Hester to be, going home, too, for twelve was 
their dinner time. They both rose together, and were 
in the middle of the room, when Isabella said, — 

“ Oh ! I had forgotten ; you admired the brilliant 
spray papa gave me so much, I will show it to you.” 

Something^ a foreshadowing of evil, smote upon Hes- 
ter’s heart. It seemed to fall back into its socket like 
a weight. She watched her friend go to the toilet, — 
she saw the look of surprise which passed over her 
face upon not finding the jewel where she had left it, 
nor in any of her jewel-cases. 

“ I cannot find it ! ” Isabella said, turning to Hes- 
ter, who had grown pale with nervousness. She gave 
the bell a pull. It was immediately answered by her 
maid. “ Roland,” she said, “ I have mislaid the spray 
of gems which I wore last night ; will you assist me in 
searching for it ? ” • * 

“ Mislaid it ! And I am sure, me lady, it was on 
the toilet when we went downstairs together, scarce an 
hour ago ! ” 

“ It cannot be lost,” Hester said, with a trembling 
voice, for she felt that her situation was not a pleasant 
one. 

“ Oh, no ! it cannot be lost, ” repeated Isabella, 
assuming a gay tone ; but Hester could plainly see 


HESTER POWERS GIRLHOOD. 


43 


that it was forced ; besides, she felt Roland’s eyes now 
and then upon her, wearing not the kindest expression. 

The jewel was not found. Isabella said that it must 
be somewhere near, and after returning from her ride 
she should most likely find it. She bade Hester 
good-by. 

The sunshine had gone out of Hester’s heart ; and, 
with a slow and heavy step, she sought the most re- 
tired way of leaving the house. Isabella and her maid 
stood as Hester had left them. Suspicion, that dark 
and cruel thing, had entered their hearts. They did 
not utter it to each other, but they read it on each 
other’s faces. It was stamped upon them in living 
characters. 

“ Roland ! ” Isabella said, after a painful silence, 
“ promise me that to no one in the whole world will you 
speak what 5^ou now feel. Remember that it would be 
an awful thing. It may be — ” 

“ Guilt be plain enough seen, miss,” said Roland, 
in a sort of bitter tone ; “ but as ’tis your wish, I won’t 
tell it to a soul. Torture shouldn’t wring it from 
me ! ” She gave a sigh, almost amounting to a groan, 
repeated in a solemn tone the^ passage, “ The heart is 
deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked,” 
and went on with her work. 

Isabella’s spirits had received a severe shock; her 
confidence was shaken in the friend she loved, and she 
thought that if she, an earthly friend, was so grieved, 
how much more must the Spirit of God be, — that 
heavenly Friend, whom she had so recently vowed to 
renounce the world for. 


44 


JUDGE not;*' or, 


“0 Hester, Hester.! My dearest friend! Why 
have you done yourself such wrong ? The man of God 
had reason, indeed, to say, ‘ Defend, O Lord, this thy 
child, with thy heavenly grace, that she may continue 
thine forever ! "’ Isabella bowed her head and wept. 
The tears were still trembling on her lids when Sir 
Huston tapped upon the door. 

“ In a moment, dear papa,” she said, wiping her 
eyes and arranging her dress. The impulse was strong 
within her to tell him at once -that she had lost the 
pretty gem wLich he had given her but the day before ; 
but her tongue refused to utter the suspicion which 
was in her heart. She walked with him to the terrace, 
where the party had gathered. The grooms were lead- 
ing up the horses, and in a little while a gay and lively 
party were dashing across the park. 

Through the shrubbery, at the back of the “ West 
Oakland” mansion, Hester had walked slowly until she 
had gained the top of the little hill beyond, which was a 
favorite spot with her. From this point, she could see 
the channel and the ships, and she would often stop a 
long time to watch them, some going up and others 
down ; but this morning no ships, no beautiful water, 
attracted her. She leaned against an old dead tree, 
and pressed her hands tightly upon her breast. She 
saw the riders as they crossed the park beyond, and 
among them she distinguished Isabella by her snowy 
plumes. 

“What if she, my friend, should become mine en- 
emy and my accuser?” Hester said aloud. “Accuser 
— accuser ! ” she repeated ; “ could Isabella accuse me? 


HESTER ROWERS* GIRLHOOD, 


45 


Could she think that I would steal ? O Father ! ” she 
said, turning her white face upward, ‘‘be with me. 
Let thy spirit protect me from such a cruel wrong.” 

No one — none but God — saw the girl as she knelt 
beside the old dead tree ; and as she prayed, she felt 
that that divine Spirit would help her. There almost 
came a voice into her heart, ‘‘ Arise, Hester, and be not 
afraid.” And she rose up with lighter spirits. She 
had carried her burden to One better able to bear it 
than she was, — and, looking up, and smiling through 
her tears, she said, “By and by, Isabella will be sorry 
that she wronged me so, even in thought.” 

She dipped her handkerchief in the brook and wiped 
her eyes, and the fresh, crisp breeze brought back the 
color to her cheeks. Grace, with two others of their 
village friends, met her as she came in sight of Oak- 
land, and had so many pleasant things to say, that Hes- 
ter very soon forgot the unpleasant occurrence at the 
Hall. 

Nancy Powers was in her glory, “ making a fuss,” 
she termed it, “ over her friends.” She had cleaned 
until her little house almost shone ; and all unknown to 
Hester she had bought and made her a new Christmas 
dress “ of fine blue stuff** It was laid out upon the 
bed, with the prettiest of the collars that Isabella had 
sent ; and the good woman watched for her daughter 
with almost a childish joy ; and when Hester saw it, 
and thanked her mother with a kiss, Nancy said, as 
she looked around, “ Well, gals, Christmas comes but 
once a year, and it does a body good to see happiness 


46 


JUDGE not;” oe, 

then.” Her sleeves were rolled up above her elbows, 
and her face was very red from cooking. 

‘‘Shall I help 3^011, mother?” Hester asked, going 
to the little kitchen door. 

“ Help, no, indeed, child. The puddin’s been a bil- 
in’ for four hours, and the goose and taters be standin* 
ready on the table, to be put to the fire ; we haint gwine 
to eat till one o’clock to-day, for father’s tooked it 
hinto ’is ’ead to go to church ; as to my leaving the 
Christmas things to frizzle and burn, is out of the 
question. There’s time plenty for you, though, Hes-. 
ter, if you’ll ’urr}^. Sarvice don’t begin till late to- 
day, owin’ to the parson’s being j)oorly. There, there 
goes the bells now.” 

Hester was very soon dressed in her prett}^ blue suit, 
— for the dress had a nice wadded cape to it, — a new 
collar fastened with the forget-me-not brooch and her 
pretty cottage hat ; and never had she looked more 
beautiful. The bright sunshine seemed to like to rest 
on the ends of her brown curls, and the breeze to kiss 
her dimpled cheek, and as she walked up the cedar 
avenues of the church-3mrd, many an eye followed her ; 
and not one of the high-born girls who appeared in 
costly dress, and came in carriages emblazoned with 
the escutcheon of noble houses won more admiration 
on that Christmas morning than did our ^ullage belle, 
and there was more than one manly heart that beat 
with hope as she passed them with a “Merry Christ- 
mas.” The service was a short one, and but few lin- 
gered, as was the usual custom, around the church 
■ porch, for all- were anxious to move homeward. 


HESTER POWERS GIRLHOOD, 


47 


It was a day of peculiar pleasure to the Powers fam- 
ily. The shadow which had crossed Hester’s path in 
the morning had disappeared, and she, with her friends 
so hospitably entertained at her father’s cottage, en- 
joyed a real merry Christmas. 


CHAPTER Vn. 


THE “ WEST OAKLAND ” FEAST. 

Whatever were Isabella’s feelings respecting the 
lost jewel, it is certain that she did not speak them to 
any one. It was gone, — but where? After seeing 
Hester on the next day, looking into those clear, 
truthful eyes, how could she suspect her? Impossible ! 
She was angry with herself for having allowed the 
thought to cross her mind, and deeply grieved that 
Roland should have known of her suspicions. The 
woman alluded to it one evening, and Isabella took the 
opportunity of trying to disabuse her mind of so foul a 
thought. “The gem is gone,” she said, “but I am 
convinced that Hester knows nothing about it.” 

Roland promised her young lady never to think of 
Hester as having touched it, but her promises did not 
uproot a conviction which had taken deep hold upon 
her mind. She still believed that Hester was guilty of 
taking the diamond spray. 

The wrong which Isabella felt that she had done her 
friend only served now to make her more tender and 
affectionate toward her, and although there was much 
ga3"ety at the mansion, she found much more real 

48 


HESTER POWERS* GIRLHOOD. 


49 


pleasure in taking a stroll with Hester than in joining 
the party in the drawing-room. 

Preparations were going on briskly for the feast 
which was to be given to the village people on the last 
day of the old year. The weather was exceedingly 
fine, and wise people said that it would continue so for 
some time ; the air was bracing and clear, and the 
ground hard and dry. Not far from the broad avenue, 
which formed the main entrance to the mansion, a site 
had been selected for the entertainment, and already 
the long tables were beginning to appear. Hester and 
Isabella were busy planning for others’ pleasures. The 
day — that eventful day to many in Oakland — at last 
came round, and at dawn gi’oups might have been seen 
ready, in holyday suits, talking of what they had been 
led to expect had been provided for them in the shape 
of a good solid feast at “ West Oakland.” Children 
popped their heads out of the cottage windows and 
in again, to scream with joy that it was a “ splendid 
day ! ” Yes, it was a glorious day ; the ponds were 
hard-frozen, and good skaters anticipated a jolly time. 

From dawn all had been bustle at the mansion. 
Ladies, gentlemen, and servants had been hurrying to 
and fro, and the immense roasts, and ponderous cal- 
drons steaming away over fires fierce enough to broil 
an ox, testified to the good will of the cooks. Cold 
joints, brawns, pies, and j)uddings ; fine fat geese, 
ducks, and chickens slaughtered for the occasion, and 
which were now ready for the ovens, — showed that the 
feast was to be a substantial one. The great bell, from 
the cupola of the building, was to give the people notice 
4 


60 


JUDGE not;** or. 


to come from the village ; and, believe me, dear reader, 
not ten minutes after the first sound of it had reached 
the people’s ears, Oakland was a deserted place. In 
droves they came, and, as they stopped outside for the 
porter to open the lodge-gate, three deafening cheers 
arose, — “ Long live Sir Huston !” Long live the noble 
lady ! “ Long live the beautiful Isabella ! ” The tables 
were soon filled, and as many as would fill them three 
times more waited around. The old people and the 
children Sir Huston took, himself, to the places^ 
and when he saw their grateful eyes looking up almost 
tearfully to his, his answer was, “He giveth to the 
hungry bread, and those who trust in him shall lack 
no good thing ! ” . 

The guests, both ladies and gentlemen, were not 
lookers-on only ; they found plenty to do. They were 
anxious that all should be well served, and were not a 
little amused to witness the rapid disappearance of the 
viands. After rendering all the service they could, 
Isabella and Hester walked away to a little distance, 
that they might have a better view of the scene. The 
first table was through, and others were taking their 
seats. Various games were going on, — some dancing, 
some skating, and others climbing poles ; nor was 
music wanting to enliven the scene. Faces beamed 
with pleasure, and hearts were brimming over with 
delight. 

Simon, good old man, as he nudged his wife to look 
after Hester, as she and Isabella walked away, felt 
that his cup of blessings was full to the brim. Some 
were there, who said “ that Hester put on airs,” and 


HESTER POWERS^ GIRLHOOD, 51 

some, too, who said that she looked just as much a 
born lady as the one she was walking with ; but the 
tongue is an unruly member ; it will not be bridled ; 
people will talk. 

The two girls had taken seats under the wide-spread- 
ing, leafless branches of an old oak. Its enormous 
trunk had become hollow. “ What a massive thing it 
is ! ” said Isabella. She got up, and surveyed it from 
its crooked and knotted roots to its topmost branches. 

“It was Sir Richard’s pet tree,” Hester said; “he 
has often told me that there was not another such in 
the country. Poor old gentleman ! ” she continued, “ he 
and I have spent many hours just where we are now ; 
he was so fond of watching the birds and squirrels. 
He was so odd ! ” she said with a merry laugh ; “ there 
was no end to his pets ; he had rooks, and jays, and 
magpies, and pheasants, and owls, and dogs. They 
all knew him, and it was curious to see him feed them. ” 
They both laughed heartily. 

“ I should like to have helped him,” said Isabella. 
“ What nest is that on the top branch?” 

“ I don’t know,” Hester said ; “ but by and by when 
spring comes we shall be able to find out. The same 
birds come back, and very often occupy their old nests. 
What was that ? ” 

“ Why, only a bird ! ” Isabella answered, “ and it posi- 
tively flew from that old nest we were talking of!” 

“ That is not strange I ” Hester answered ; “ the old 
gardener can tell you that quite a number of the old 
domesticated birds, those half tamed by Sir Richard, 
live in their nests all the year round.’^ 


52 


JUDGE not;'' or, 


“ Poor little birdies ! ” said Isabella. ‘‘ J must try to 
gain their love next summer. They find this noble old 
tree a real good home, I know.” 

“ Oh ! yes, that they do, and there are yet many 
sweet places you have not seen, dear Isabella, where the 
birds seem to meet just to sing ; ” and then Hester 
told her friend of pretty little rivulets quite in the 
shelter of the woods, with margins covered with the 
pond lily. “ In such places the gray bird pours out his 
richest notes.” 

“ Hester, I love to hear you talk ; you have so much 
feeling, so much love for the beautiful things of earth,” 
said Isabella. “ How much we shall enjoy ourselves in 
the spring-time and summer ! ” 

They looked toward the dinner-tables, and saw that 
many of the people were already going home. The air 
was growing cooler, and the old people and children 
began to wish for the fires. 

“ How delightful it must be to be rich, and able to 
do so much good ! ” Hester said. “ See how happy the 
people look ! ” 

“ Papa is a noble man ! ” Isabella said, ‘‘ and he remem- 
bers that the Scriptures say, ‘ As everyone hath received 
the gift, even so minister the same one to another, 
as good stewards of the manifold grace of God.’” 

They had arisen, and were standing side by side, 
and, as Isabella concluded the foregoing passage, her 
eyes rested on the ground. Hester was looking at her, 
and saw that in a second her face, a second before so 
bright with happiness, had blanched to the hue of 
death ! 


HESTER POWERS* GIRLHOOD. 


53 


“ Isabella ! ” she exclaimed, “ what is it? ” 

Without moving a muscle of her face, Isabella 
pointed to the ground and — there, close to Hester’s 
feet lay the diamond spray ! A moment before she had 
taken a handkerchief from her pocket, and was in the 
act of replacing it when Isabella caught sight of the 
gem. 

It was Hester’s turn now to grow p^e, for she felt, 
saw, that the suspicion, which had darkened her friend’s 
mind once, had now returned with tenfold force. For 
an instant their eyes met, and then Hester almost 
reeled against the tree-trunk for support. 

“ Isabella ! ” 

“ Hester ! ” 

These were the only words spoken. What could 
they say ! They both stood, pale and trembling, looking 
vacantly down upon the glittering ornament. Soon, 
however, the sickening faintness which had come over 
Hester, as she read her friend’s conclusion, and felt 
that she might perhaps be hereafter branded as a thief, 
passed away, a flush kindled upon her cheek, while 
every limb trembled with excitement. 

“ Isabella ! ” she said, flxing her dilated eyes upon 
her friend’s, “ who is it? Who can be so cruel as to 
do me this dreadful wrong? Tou^ even yow, my friend^ 
you believe me guilty of crime. I see it, I read it in 
your looks ; but there is One who knoweth the secrets 
of all hearts ; before him I am innocent.” 

“ Hester, be calm, be calm ; I have not accused you. 
Oh, believe me, I would not willingly do injustice to 
any one ! Forgive me, Hester. Come,” she said, pick- 


54 


JUDGE not;** or, 

ing up the gem, “ have you forgiven me ? Papa is beck- 
oning to us ; don’t you feel cold ? ” 

No ; Hester was not cold ; there seemed to be a 
scorching heat in her blood. They walked together 
to meet Sir Huston, who was coming toward them. 
“ Well,” he said, “we have had a 'pleasant time; all 
have eaten enough, and carried away their pockets full. 
They are a mefty party.” He pointed to a number of 
the young people fast leaving the grounds. Isabella 
talked to him, for she knew that Hester could not. 

When they reached the terrace, Hester said, “ You 
will excuse my going in now, Isabella. I see father and 
mother looking for me.” 

“Hester!” Isabella, drew her aside; “don’t leave 
me so ; come in a little while.” 

“ Oh ! I cannot — I cannot now, my heart is burst- 
ing — I cannot breathe. O Isabella ! to be — to 
be — ” 

“ Don’t speak it, Hester ; forgive me, for I would give 
everything I possess in the world to be able to solve 
the mystery. Tell me that you forgive me.” 

The tears had gathered in Isabella’s eyes ; but no 
moisture came to Hester’s. In hers there was a burn- 
ing lustre, a fixed, anguished look upon her features. 

“ Come ! come ! girls,” called Sir Huston from the 
hall door, “ you have been in the cold long enough.” 

Hester tried to smile, tried to bid her friend a cheer- 
ful, good-by ; but she could not, for the sword had gone 
into her heart. ^ 

“ Why, bless me, bless me, child 1 ” exclaimed Nancy, 
as Hester came up. “ How quar you look ! ” 


HESTER POWERS* GIRLHOOD, 


55 


“ I’m tired, mother,” Hester said, quietly. Yes, poor 
girl, she was tired indeed. 

“ Tired, me bonny lassie? Be that all? Ye ha’e run 
too much upon the hard ground, poor lamb,” her father 
said, as he drew her arm withiii his own. 

“ Yes, father, I* feel so weary, and the road home looks 
so long to-day.” 

The parents looked at each other, for there was 
something in Hester’s tone, that had sent a sort of 
pain to their hearts, something that had sent away all 
thought of the feast from their minds, and brought a 
careworn look upon their faces. They talked very 
little as they went homeward. Hester only answered 
their anxious questions. Poor girl ! her breathing was 
heavy, and her heart seemed like a leaden weight in 
her breast. She remembered Grace. She thought of 
that Sabbath morning when they had stood together upon 
the hill-top. Oh that she had listened to her warn- 
ing voice ! Then this cruel blow would not have fallen 
upon her heart ; but Hester had erred then, and «he was 
taking another false step now. She thought by keep- 
ing the secret of her distress from her parents, she was 
saving them pain. Had she confided it to them then, 
much future sorrow might have been spared them all ; 
but she did not ; her lips refused to tell them so cruel 
a thing, — that suspicion rested upon her. 

Weary indeed she felt as she threw herself into the 
big chintz-covered arm-chair, in her own little chamber. 
She regretted then that she had ever been allured from 
her own humble home. 

Many had said, “No good will come of such an 


56 


JUDGE not;** OEf 

intimacy.” Had not evil already come ? Hester 
thought so then, and in that troubled moment she 
thought of the triumph it would be to those who had 
predicted evil. 

“She be sick, bad sick,' sure enough,” said Simon, 
shaking his head sadly. “ It war cold, too cold for 
the poor lamb, yonder, to-day. Take her a cup of yarb 
tea, Nancy, and tuck her hup in bed, and may be it 
’ill please the Father above to bless our feeble ef- 
forts.” 

And Nancy made the tea strong and sweet ; but alas ! • 
it was not the medicine Hester required. She drank 
it because she was desired to do so ; but she did not 
taste it ; in fact scarcely felt her mother remove her 
clothes, so absorbed was she in her painful thoughts. 

“Now go to sleep, Hester dear,” said her mother, 
bending over the bed to kiss her. “ God bless thee, 
darling ! Father is beside hisself hif you haint nigh 
’im in the hevening ; so take a good rest, and to-morrow 
you’ll be well again.” 

The old folks felt lonely as they sat over the evening 
fire. They had been blessed with but one child, and 
on her they had set all their affections. “ Don’t 
be worried, father,” said Nancy. “ ’Tis but a cold, and 
besides, there’s been pecks of fuss, an’ high doin’s yon- 
der, since the holidays sot hin. Don’t be scared hat a 
shader.” 

“ Ah, mother. I’m afeared ’taint cold, — some’ot else, 
some’ot else ! Hester’s as lithe as wilier, and a little 
cold wouldn’t break her down so ; her nater be hafter 


HESTER POWERS* GIRLHOOD. 


57 


me own, mother. Her heart be broke ! her heart be 
broke ! Didn't ye see her look ? ” 

“ I did, father, but to me there was only a jagged-out, 
jaded cast. Cheer hup, for as sure as ye begin the new 
year a mopin’ so, there’ll be ill luck to us the twelve 
months out.” 

“Nonsense, Nancy, how hold woll ye get before ye 
get sense?, Haint 3’e got a grain o’ faith, woman? — 
Patience ! I thort ’twas later.” 

“That’s only eight,” said Nancy, looking up at the 
old clock. “ It makes a heap of difference when she 
haint here.” 

“ Ay, that hit do,” said Simon. “ But my notion is 
there’s no use in waitin’ a long hour more over a few 
embers.” 

“ I reckon not, too,” said Nancy, rising ; and, taking 
a candle from the mantel-piece, she lighted it, and then 
went into Hester’s room. The mother thought that she 
was asleep', and as she smoothed back the beautiful 
hair from her brow, and imprinted a kiss upon it, the 
pra^^er went up from her heart, “ God be tender to the 
child, and keep her out of trouble.” 

“ Ah,” said Simon, who now stood by his wife, “ she 
be our light and brightness, and I can surely say with 
honest lips,' that I ha’e gived her to God ever since the 
poor thing was ours. Nancy, war it wise in us to let 
her go so much j^onder to the Hall ? ” 

“Wise? now, father, what a notion! Sure it was 
wise. Ben’t Hester henvied by a whole host, and 
haint it a been a good help to us ? ” 

“ Ay ! ay ! women know best.” And the old man 


58 


“ JUDGE not; ” OiJ, 

kissed the pretty white hand that lay over on the quilt. 
“ Good-night, my little one ; thee father be a foolish old 
man. Me heart goes out of me when sickness or 
trouble comes to thee, child.” 

Hester was not asleep. She had not been asleep, 
but she lay almost stupefied. She felt as if life had 
suddenly lost all its joy ; her very strength had for- 
saken her. What if her parents and her village friends 
should know of the circumstance ? She shuddered at 
the bare thought. “ I will give up my friend ! yes, 
I will let Isabella find a more suitable companion ! ” 
she said, sitting up in the bed. “ Perhaps it would be 
better for us both, for I am sure that I have an enemy 
at ‘ West Oakland.’ Yes, I will stay at home ; perhaps 
learn a trade.” These new ideas filled Hester’s mind, 
and nine, ten, eleven o’clock struck. Hark ! she lis- 
tened. It was the deep-toned knell, that solemn toll 
for the departing year. Deep, deep, and gloomily it 
boomed forth upon the night-air. Hester 'started up, 
for the sound seemed to come like a wail to her heart, 
a great voice of woe — woe. She threw aside the mus- 
lin curtains, and, pushing the lattice open, leaned her 
head upon the sill ; cold as the night-wind blew, it 
seemed only to fan her hot temples like a summer’s 
breeze. 

The moon and stars seemed to glitter in the blue 
heavens, and the silvery sheen light up the beautiful 
landscape. There came, too, between the tolling bell, 
the sound of happy voices, those watching for the New 
Year. “ The New Year ! What will it bring to me?” 
the girl said aloud. Until then, she had known no real 


HESTER POWERS^ GIRLHOOD, 


59 


trouble. The bare suspicion had crushed her. Mid- 
night came, and the last dismal stroke of the bell was 
succeeded by a wild and joyous peal, awaking up the 
echoes from the hills, and sounding forth the glad tid- 
ings of a new-born year. 


A 


CHAPTER VIII. 


THE SNOW-STORM. 

“ Ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For 
what is your life ? It is even a vapor, that appeareth 
for a little time and then vanisheth away.” The dawn 
of the New Year broke gloomily over Oakland. The 
sun, which had gone down leaving behind him a 
pageant of royal coloring and the promise of a bright 
to-morrow, arose behiiid sombre clouds. The fitful 
winds moaned through the barren trees, and whistled 
hoarsely through chimneys and crevices. How quickly 
the scenes shift! How they change from brightness 
to gloom ! 

Very pale and sad, Hester appeared on the next 
day. If possible, she would have hidden every trace of 
her trouble from her parents ; but the very effort she 
made only served to make her suffering more visible. 

“ Hester,” said her father, as he buttoned on his over- 
coat before going out to his day’s work, “ if you be 
troubled, child, don’t lock it up in your own bosom. 
Ye can al’ays come to mother or me. If ye be sick, 
take a piller on the settle, drink another cup o’ yarb 

60 


61 


HESTER POWERS* GIRLHOOD. 

tea, and keep still. Nothin’ better than sage or pep- 
permint to get the cold out o’ the bones.” 

A cup of herb tea ! Hester smiled as her father 
mentioned the old-time remedy, and she thought, 
“ The Great Physician — he who bore our sorrows — 
he who knoweth our hearts — he alone can heal me. 
If he would only reveal to Isabella who took that 
jewel ! ” 

“Come now, lassie,” said the old man, “don’t 
take the sunshine from the ’arthstone. We have none 
but you, Hester. Come, be bright, for He knows,” 
— and the old man looked reverently upward, — “yes, 
he knows that all our joy is in your merry laugh.” 

He pressed- her hand lightly upon his breast, and 
played tenderly with her curls. Again Hester felt that 
it would be better to tell her father what had hap- 
pened ; but instantly came the thought, “ Why should 
I grieve him?” Simon Powers was as proud of his 
honest ancestry as if they had been nobles born. “ A 
good name is better than riches,” he often repeated, 
and Hester felt sure that he would not rest until she 
was made clear of the charge. Thus she reasoned. 
If her father looked into the matter, many might hear 
of it, and make the atfair even worse than it looked now. 
If it was let alone, it would quietly die out. She 
therefore concluded that in future it would be her wis- 
est course to stay more at home, and in the spring to 
go and learn the dress-making. Having fully decided 
upon this, she became more cheerful, and really felt 
better. She aided her mother in all the little domestic 
duties, for she knew that to be busily employed was 


62 


“ JUDGE not; ” OiJ, 

the best way to divert one’s thoughts from trouble. 
After the morning’s work was done up, the best room 
carefully dusted, and a bright fire crackling pleasantly 
away in the large chimney-place, Hester ran out into 
the garden and gathered the last few chrysanthemums, 
which were being cruelly blown about by the keen 
wind, a few sprigs of box, and a little everlasting. 
She arranged them in a cup and set it upon the little 
deal table beside the work-basket. They really looked 
pretty, and the whole room comfortable and attractive. 
They both sat down to sew, each wishing that “ father ” 
could have stayed at home that gloomy day. 

“ If I’m crooked and ungrateful other times,” said 
Nancy, as she looked from the window, these sort of 
days al’ays makes me thankful ; we’ve got a home, 
anyhow.” 

“ That we have, mother, and as nice a one as I 
want,” said Hester. 

“I haint a thort of complaining of it for meself, 
child, — not I, — but sometimes I do wish for a better 
one for you. I may be sinful, perhaps, but it’s me 
love, child, — me love.” 

“ Mother,” Hester said, quietly, “ I sometimes have 
wished for better things myself ; but now I am sure 
that it is best for every one to be contented in the. 
position he was placed by Providence. I wish I had 
gone to a trade, like Grace.” 

“ Why, child, what’s come over you? Learn a trade 
and be a sewin’ from morning till night, when you can 
be a lady, and live like one, a pleasuring all day long ? 


HESTER POWERS^ GIRLHOOD. 


63 


Why, I be amazed, confounded, frightened, — sure I 
am the three, I am ! ” 

“ But, mother, I can’t always live so. Suppose you 
or father should be taken away from me ; I shouldn’t 
be able to lead an idle life then. I am nearly seven- 
teen — ” 

“ Hush, child ! a body might think your senses had 
left ye. Would you give up sich friends as you have 
yonder, just when the whole place be a talking and 
envying of you — tut, tut.” 

“ It may not be the best thing for me in the end, 
mother. I’m sure I don’t feel ungrateful. I know 
that I have learned a great deal from Isabella ; but 
still I can’t help thinking that my daily intercourse 
with her will unfit me for — ” 

“Hester! How kin you talk so? Don’t I get the 
best o’ work, and good prices, too, on your account? 
and haint hit out that you be to go abroad, that is, a 
travelling wey ’em this very next summer ? For good 
lovin’ sakes, child, don’t be so foolish I ” 

Hester sighed and went on with her sewing. She 
saw at once that, for the sake of peace, she must give 
up her idea of learning the dress-making. She had 
taken her corner in the window-bench, and, looking 
out, saw that the snow-flakes were beginning to fall 
from the leaden sky. 

Nancy declared that it was delightful to be in a 
“ warm room, and have a body’s hands full of good, 
fine work, such weather.” She plied her needle dili- 
gently, and hummed tunes between times ; but Hester’s 


64 


JUDGE NOT 




. » 

) 


OE, 


work lay in her lap ; she thought and watched the 
snow turns. 

It is said that “ every human body has a certain des- 
tiny allotted to him ; that it is not in his power to es- 
cape it : go this way or that, he has the same end to 
attain, the same good or evil to encounter.” Be this 
so or not we cannot say. If our “ times be in his 
hands,” let us say “ It is the Lord, let him do what 
seemeth him good.” Hester accomplished very little 
that day ; her nerves were unstrung ; one minute she 
felt hot and feverish, the next cold ; every sound made 
her start. 

As the day advanced, the snow fell faster, and 
when Simon came in from work he said that it would 
be a big storm, and that the people, many of them, 
had neither food nor fuel laid up in case it should be 
a heavy fall. Grace Homes and her mother ran 
over just a minute to say something aboufthe same 
thing, and to ask after Hester, who they had heard 
was not well. 

The two girls were soon together in the window- 
bench, while the three old people sat over the fire. 

“What made you sick, Hester? 3"ou are so pale!” 
Grace took her friend’s hand and looked earnestly into 
her eyes. 

“ I’m only not very well, Grace,” Hester said, look- 
ing down ; and then they neither spoke for a while. 

“Hester!” Grace said, at length, “ I can’t help 
thinking. You know that I don’t believe in dreams, or 
omens, as granny says ; but I have dreamed so much 
about you lately that I can’t help thinking there must 


HESTER powers' GIRLHOOD. 


65 


be something in it. It hangs over me, and I feel 
troubled.” 

Hester looked paler than before, though she tried to 
speak lightly, — tried to smile. Her friend’s words 
had carried additional weight to her heart. “ I am not 
well, Grace,” she said, sadly, while the moisture glis- 
tened in her eye. “ I am tired ; so tired and weary, I 
want to rest.” She paused for a moment, and then 
said, “ I could not expect to live in the world without 
trouble. If it comes to me, I must bear it patiently as 
others do.” 

Grace looked at her. “ Hester,” she said, “ no one 
has told me so, but I am sure that something has hap- 
pened to you.” 

Hester started. Her eyes looked full of alarm. 
They sat looking at each other. 

“ Come, come, Grace ! ” called Mrs. Homes from the 
settle. “We must be off, for just look at the snow. 
Dear bless me ! ” she continued, “ there’ll be many 
among us nigh perishing before it’s over. Dear, dear ! ”• 

“ Trust in the Lord,” said Simon, shaking his white 
head. “ Trust him ; he be a present help in time o’ 
trouble.” 

Faster, faster it came down, in driving sheets, for a 
high wind prevailed, and the snow soon began to lie in 
heavy drifts, blocking up highways and threatening to 
close up many of the cottages altogether. 

Sir Huston and Lady Falkstone, as they sat in their 
mansion surrounded by all the luxuries of life, were 
not unmindful of those whom they knew must be 
already suffering. For one day and two whole nights 
6 


66 JUDGE not;'' oe, 

the snow fell, during which time it was impossible for 
any one to go out. Pictures of shivering, hungry chil- 
dren, and old people huddling together over a few em- 
bers, depressed their generous hearts ; and it was with 
grateful feelings that they realized on the second morn- 
ing that the storm had ceased ; and after having partaken 
of a hasty breakfast. Sir Huston started off, wading to 
his boot-tops in the snow. 

“ What a dismal prospect ! ” Isabella thought, as 
she watched him going down the avenue. She wished 
very much, then, that Hester was with her, and re- 
gretted, with pain, that it had not been in her power 
to hide her feelings when she caught sight of the 
diamond spray at Hester’s feet. What to think of the 
matter she hardly knew. It was certainly clothed in 
mystery. She had not failed to tell Roland that it 
was found, and to mention again the regret she felt 
that they had ever cast a shadow of doubt upon Hes- 
ter. 

But as was Roland’s habit on such occasions, she 
smiled, and with a slight toss of her head, said, “ ’Tis 
as well to let the shoe be worn by the foot it was made 
for, my young lady. ’Twid be a ’ard thing for a hon- 
est body to suffer for another’s sins ; sure it wid, 
miss.” 

“ But, Roland, have I not told you that the jewel is 
found, and in my possession?” 

The woman only smiled. 

“ Hester must live down this cruel thing. If she is 
innocent, and innocence will assert itself, suspicion 
shall not rest upon her,” Isabella thought, while Ro- 


HESTER powers" GIRLHOOD, 


67 


land left her presence and went to Mrs. Grieves’s 
rooms. Mrs. Grieves was Lady Falkstone’s attend- 
ant. 

“ Grieves, ” she said, going quietly in and closing the 
door behind her, “ Grieves, it is found ! ” 

“Found!” The tall, spare, gray-eyed Grieves 
started to her feet, placed her hands upon her hips and 
repeated the query again, “ Found?” 

“ Put back, no doubt,” said Poland with a sneer. 
“ She’s deep, — deep, I say.” 

The two women sat down over the fire with heads 
too close together for good. They had an unfortunate- 
ly pretty girl in their claws, and were determined to 
let envy do its work. Hester was not handled very 
daintily by them that morning. 

“We’ll watch her close enough after this,” said 
Roland. 

“ Of course I It is our Christian duty, my dear,” 
said Mrs. Grieves. “We have our own characters to 
take care of, haint we?” The neck was elongated 
again and the forefinger going rapidly. “Don’t I 
know Sir Huston? I reckon I do. And, mark me, 
there’d be a stir if the affair got to his hears.” 

“ That there would,” said Roland. 

“ Now, my dear, look you,” said Grieves. “ Could 
a thing be easier than for that low girl to ruin us? 
For, mark me, let a suspicion once pop into the mas- 
ter’s head — why, good-by to you. If his only child. 
Miss Isabella, was to commit a crime, he wouldn’t 
raise his finger to save her from the law.” 

“That’s what I think, too,” said Roland. “But, 


68 


JUDGE not;'* or, 


Grieves, it’s a secret between us ; I wouldn’t have my 
young lady know I told you for a guinea, right down.” 

“Oh, don’t be afeard of me, my dear ! Haint I has 
tight has beeswax ? ” 

Grieves’s gray eyes twinkled. They smiled at each 
other, those two women did, for they, like a pair of vul- 
tures, were eager to devour completely their prey. With 
Grieves particularly this affair was an event which 
suited her taste. It was marrow to her bones, and 
health to her flesh, to be in the midst of scandal. She 
smiled and groaned alternately, and drew frightful com- 
parisons between her own and her victim’s character. 
She loved to hint things and exclaim over the frailties 
of her kind, ever winding up with thankfulness to 
Heaven that she was so-and-so ! 

On this morning, while Sir Huston was looking into 
the condition of things outside, these two women were 
sitting over a comfortable fire, comforting the inner 
man with a substantial draught of mulled ale, and 
necessarily growing animated as they discussed Hes- 
ter’s character. Poor child ! she had not a vii'tue in 
their estimation. 

“Now,” said Grieves, “ since I was so high,” mark- 
ing a certain height with her hand, “I’ve read books, — 
ay, hundreds of ’em, — and of course I’ve become a 
real good judge of character. I can read folks like 
books, and can see away underneath fine skins. Now 
between you and me, my dear Roland, I’ve always 
said to myself, ‘ That gal aint right at ’art.’ ” 

“Well, now, ’tis queer; I always despised her, 
about, ” said Roland. “ I used to get all my young 


HESTER POWERS^ GIRLHOOD, 


69 


lady’s lay-asides; now, I count on nothing, for all 
goes to her. There’s my young lady’s bell!” Ro- 
land stopped only a second, just to enjoin secrecy, and 
was off. 

Isabella was at her writing-desk when her maid en- 
tered. “Roland,” she said, “ papa has just come in, 
and, I think, intends sending some of the men to the 
village to look after the people.. Take this note to him, 
and say I should be glad if he would have it taken to 
the Powers cottage.” 

Roland received it, courtesied, and was gone. Over 
and over she turned it, and to the light she held it. 
In fact, it was handled by both Grieves and herself, 
and duly commented upon before it was taken to the 
library, where Sir Huston and his lady were. The 
gentleman, having but just come in, was still covered 
with snow. 

“ Tell Miss Isabella that I am going to the village, 
and will deliver it myself, ” Sir Huston ffaid. And 
in a little while, he, with several men, started off 
through the snow-drifts. The wind was still high and 
biting, and the roar of the billows on the rocky coast 
came like a mighty moan over common and hill. It 
was quite an undertaking to wade three-quarters of a 
mile in such snow, but “ Where there is a will, there 
is a way,” is an old but true saying. There was 
much need of assistance, and Sir Huston and his men 
found plenty to do. Measures were at once taken to 
supply the needful, as far as he could, at once, and 
then promised to see that more should be done later 
in the day. Ah ! who in Oakland did not bless him, 


70 


JUDGE not;** or, 

and thank God for having disposed his noble heart 
toward them? Who in Oakland, young or old, could 
remember a time when Sir Richard had looked into 
their cottages so, and inquired about their wants? 
Alas, none ! 

“ ‘Be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only,’” 
repeated an old woman, as Sir Huston was turning to 
go. “ And we read, too, ‘ He that giveth to the poor 
shall not lack.’ The Lord bless thee ! The Lord bless 
thee, sir ! ” 

Sir Huston turned away with a full heart and bent 
his steps toward the Powers cottage. His loud 
knock upon the door startled both Hester and her 
mother. Nancy was toasting out -a “ kink in her 
neck ” on her knees before the fire ; so it fell to Hes- 
ter’s lot to go to the door. Poor child ! she almost 
shuddered as she saw his tall form in the porch. 
“ Ah ! This is cold indeed, Hester,” he said, enter- 
ing, and striding across to the fireplace. 

For the time being, Nancy had no more ^^JcinJc.** 
She was up on her feet, and courtesying at every word. 
“Was ever such an honor paid to a Powers before? 
The gentleman had absolutel}^ taken a seat in ‘ Simon* s 
own chair,* and was looking about him as if he owned 
the place.” Nancy fairly burst out into a laugh. 

Hester had gone to her seat on the window-bench, 
and every now and then she ventured to look up ; but 
every time she saw Sir Huston’s great hazel eyes look- 
ing at her. 

“What is the matter, Hester?” he inquired, at 
length. 


HESTER POWERS* GIRLHOOD. 


71 


“As to that, sir,” said Nancy, “ ’tis ’ard to say 
what does ail the child ; she hae’ been droopy ever 
since the feast-day.” 

“ Took cold, perhaps. Here is something my daugh- 
ter sent you.” 

Hester came forward to take the note, and the 
gentleman rested his hand kindly upon her head. Her 
face was turned upward, and a happy, bright ex- 
pression — her old look — shone from her eye. 

“You are a good girl, Hester,” he said. “ Isabella 
is wishing for you very much.” 

“ I will come the first fine day, — the very first,” she 
said, going to the door. with him. 

Isabella’s note was full of kindness and aflection. 
There was no mention in it of the unpleasant cir- 
cumstance of the jewel. The pain, the suspense, the 
terrible nameless dread, which had been oppressing her 
heart so long, passed away ; and she now only thought 
of her friend. She felt sure that Isabella was unhappy, 
knowing that she had caused her so much sufiering. All 
the wrong was forgotten, and the impulsive, tender- 
hearted girl longed to kiss the hand which had dealt 
the cmel blow. The trade, alas ! it was forgotten, and 
Hester looked anxiously to the time when she and 
Isabella Falkstpne should meet again. 


CHAPTER IX. 


THE gipsy’s prophecy. 

January was past. The snow-drifts melted away, 
and again a delightful season of fair weather had set 
in ; not too cold, but clear, bracing, and delightful. 
The guests so long housed up, first by the falling 
snow, then by the drifts, and afterward by the melting 
of the snow, were indeed glad to be able to exercise 
themselves in the open air. Occasionally the hunter’s 
bugle might be heard, and the sportsmen, in brilliant 
uniform of scarlet or orange, seen dashing over ledges 
and ditches preceded by their packs of yelping 
hounds. These brilliant and stirring scenes never 
failed to excite the beholder : the hunted victim being 
almost always forgotten ; the graceful, and fiying 
horses, their plumed riders, and the eager, and crying 
pack alone attracting attention and arousing en- 
thusiasm. 

It was a beautiful morning, and Isabella and Hester 
— whose love seemed to have become more tender, 
whose friendship had strengthened under trial — were 
walking up and down the broad terrace. They were 
both painfully interested in the same scene. A poor 

72 


HESTER POWERS* GIRLHOOD. 73 

hunted fox, panting and terrified, had leaped over 
into the park, baffling, for a moment, his pursuers. 
The girls’ hearts went out for the fox. They watched 
him with the most intense anxiety, while almost a 
prayer escaped their lips for his safety.^ 

“ Fly faster ! fly faster, poor fox ! ” they cried, as the 
blast from the horns sounded and the intensely eager 
dogs caught another sight of him. “Oh, fly! fl}^ ” 
But onward flew the hounds followed by the no less 
eager horsemen. 

The girls’ hands were clasped and their eyes were 
strained after the poor victim, whose fevered tongue 
hung from his foam}^ mouth. 

“ Oh I see, see, they are gaining 1 they are gaining ! 
poor fox I poor fox 1 Oh I why will thej’’ hunt him to 
death? ” cried Hester. “ There ! there 1 ” 

One more blast from the bugles, one shout from the 
hunters. The fox was caught 1 poor bleeding victim ! 
The girls cried, cried bitter tears as they turned away. 

“ Oh, what a mystery it is to me 1 ” said Isabella. 
“ Why are those who have power so cruel ? ” 

Hester looked at her. “ Alas 1 why?” she thought ; 
“ ’tis strange.” She was thinking of the wrong which 
she had herself passed through. 

“ Yes, it is strange I ” Isabella repeated. “ What 
were you thinking, Hester?” 

“ Only how true it is that the strong will persecute 
the weak. I shall never forget the fox. What anguish 
he must have felt, poor thing 1 ” 

Isabella felt badly. She knew how much suffering 
she had caused her friend. Yet while she thought 


74 JUDGE not;'’ oe, 

again the feeling came strongly within her that Hester 
was responsible for the • disappearance and the re- 
appearance of the jewel. Her face became grave, and 
Hester could not help thinking that her friend still be- 
lieved her guilt3^ They continued to walk up and 
down on the terrace, but silently. 

Roland, ever busy prying into matters concerning, 
the two girls, had caught a word or two here and there 
in their conversation, such as — i^ersecute — weak — 
wrong — and so forth, on which she put her own con- 
struction. 

“ Well, well,” she said, “ ’taint done with yet. Mr. 
Rubens,” — she spoke to the butler who happened to 
be passing, — “ look you, Mr. Rubens ; just look at the 
bail’s ! ” 

Mr. Rubens had been let into the secret of Hester’s 
“ wrong doings.” 

“ Hairs ! I don’t see ’em, Mrs. Roland ; the gal be a 
walking jist hup hand down like hany other decent 
lady.” 

“Not see ’em ! ” Mrs. Roland answered, in surprise. 
“ Where’s the difference between my 3’oung lady and 
’er bin pint of dress ? Haint that hairs ? ” 

“ Dress ! Whose business is it if the j^oung thing 
hae spry notions? Do hour wages buy ’er dress? 
There’s the look o’ a born gentlewoman about ’er, 
there his I And mark me, mum. I’d lay a twelve- 
month salary on hit that our young lady’s ’eart haint 
the weight o’ a barley corn purer than is that* of the 
village maiden. I haint stuffed my brain wey novels 
has you and Grieves ’ave, in order to teach me ’ow to 


HESTER POWERS* GIRLHOOD, 


75 


tell what people be. There is a something that the 
maker o’ us hall have put upon hus that will and do 
show that. Now, ma’am, I be ignorant before God 
about the thing you and Grieves was so ’ot over last 
night, and hif, up to that time. I’d' never seed Miss 
Hester, I should have believed her to be — from what 
you said — a most awful and black-minded looking 
’ag ; yes, arter the order of them critters now camped 
in the copSe 3^onder between here and the village.” 

‘‘Well, Mr. Rubens, hif you ben’t a strange man, 
after 7x;e reckoned upon your friendship ! The next 
thing we may expect will be orders to find other 
situations.** Mrs. Roland applied the corner of her 
apron to one eye. 

“ A busybody I ben’t, mum ! ” said Mr. Rubens, 
“ nor does I hever stir in hobnoxious pools. Hall I 
should say, mum, is this : hit haint our places^ nor a 
wise thing to pick to pieces a poor young woman’s 
character. Hif she do wrong, and, has you say, do steal, 
why, there’s a law in the land, and a God above to 
judge her justly.” 

Isabella and Hester just then came in and passed 
up the large stairway, startling Mrs. Roland almost 
out of her senses. 

“ Could they have heard?” she asked, eagerly. 

No ! happ}^ indeed was it for our heroine to be 
ignorant that prying e^^es and curious ears and cruel 
and jealous hearts were around her, watching, listening, 
and turning into evil her very looks. The serpent 
was hidden, and Hester only saw the fiowery thicket 
in which he lurked. So she went on from day to day. 


76 


JUDGE KOT;** OiJ, 

fearing no evil. Like a sunbeam she carried light and 
warmth and love into her friend’s domestic circle. Sir 
Huston and Lady Falkstone became every day more 
tenderly attached to her. They saw and admired her 
consistent piety, and marked those modest, retiring 
traits which are so beautiful in woman. Although 
Hester was familiar with them, rode and walked, and 
sometimes sat at meat with them, they could observe 
no obtrusiveness. She took no undue advantage of 
their kindness, and many said that by and by she 
would be equal with Isabella in the love of Sir Huston 
and his wife. 

It had become a custom with Hester to leave “ West 
Oakland ” at least an hour before sundown every 
evening. There were two ways direct to the village ; 
one by the main, or turnpike road ; the other a nearer 
route, b}’’ skirting the copse, and going through several 
pretty little grassy lanes. This latter way Hester had 
named her summer path. It was so shady, so quiet 
then, and filled with such a variety of pretty flowers, 
and no end to the birds. They sang all day long 
undisturbed, particularly the gray bird which was 
Hester’s favorite among all the little songsters. 

The weather now was peculiarly delightful for Feb- 
ruary ; and as Hester bade her friends good-by one 
evening, she walked away in the direction of the sum- 
mer path. She had heard the birds ; the peacocks, too, 
were rejoicing in the pleasant sunshine, iDluming their 
gorgeous trains ; the young fawns, the stag, and the 
pretty timid doe frolicked and scampered across the 
open grounds. She could not help standing to watch 


HESTER POWERS^ GIRLHOOD, 


77 


them, taking no heed of time. The grass was fresh 
and green in the lanes, and here again, she stopped to 
look for the appearance of bud or flower. One only 
she found, — just one little violet bud, and she pinned it 
upon her bosom. She had not noticed that the shades 
of evening were gathering around her ; but they were. 
It was growing dark, and she was still quite half the 
way from home. She had entirely forgotten that an 
encampment of gipsies was just on the lower border 
of the copse through which her path lay, and not until 
she had emerged from the lane and come almost upon 
them did she think of it. The sight of the weird 
creatures around the evening flres, the dancing groups 
of young men and women, the feeding donkeys, and 
the wretched-looking piles heaped together, made Hes- 
ter stop, and lift up her hands, while a sort of blank, 
uncertain look was visible on her features. Her flrst 
impulse was to go back ; the second to run past the 
encampment as fast as she could ; but before she had 
time to determine what to do, one of the old creat- 
ures came toward her. The woman’s bronzed face, 
deep-set eyes, and crisp locks, short red gown, and feet 
encased in blue woollen hose, all inspired Hester with 
fear. She stood still, looking at her as she came for- 
ward. 

“ Shall I tell you a .bit of luck to-da}^ my purty 
one ? ” began the creature, rubbing her hands together 
and smiling. 

“ Oh ! no, I thank 5’ou,” Hester said, nervously. “ I 
have been loitering by the way and am very late. I 
cannot stay a moment,” 


78 


JUDGE not;^' or^ 

“ Nay, it is early yet, my purty one, and for a six- 
pence, or a small trinket, ye shall know the future.” 

“ I would rather not know it,” Hester said ; “ and 
beside I have not one farthing with me.” She moved 
off sideways, for she saw that others of the tribe were 
coming near them. 

“And couldn’t ye spare the bauble at the throat, 
young lady ? ” asked the hag. 

“ Oh ! no ! ” said Hester, alarmed at the thought of 
losing her forget-me-not pin. “ I could not spare that. ‘ 
Please don’t detain me.” 

“ Don’t be frightened. I will not harm thee. But, 
for thy purt}^ eyes and curls, the old mother will give 
thee just a little. Now open your hand, and let me 
see the palm just a minute.” 

“There!” said Hester, in a tone half-crying, half- 
laughing, as she pulled off her glove, “ tell me quick, 
mother.” 

The hag looked only a second at the blushing palm, 
and then raising her keen," black eyes to Hester’s, said 
with a solemn shake of the head, “Ye were born 
under an unlucky star, pore child.” 

“ Oh, let me go now ! Don’t you see how dark it is 
gi’owing?” Hester said, in a frightened tone. 

But the hag continued : “ The hounds have scented 
the young doe’s blood ; better the purty creatur’ had 
kept to his own thicket, than have been tempted out 
into the king’s forest. Ye can turn back yet, me purty 
one, and baffle the foe if ye woll I Farewell I ” With 
a wave of her brawny hand, the gipsy followed her clan 
back to the fires. 


HESTER POWERS GIRLHOOD. 


79 


Hester shuddered, — ran, — ran as fast as her feet 
could go over the ground. ‘‘ What did she mean, I 
wonder?” she thought. “Could she mean me? Oh, 
I wonder if — but wise people laugh at what gipsies say, 
so I will put it out of my thoughts.” _ 

The stars were now twinkling brightly in the sky, 
and a sort of weird light shone over her shoulder. She 
looked around, half expecting that the tribe of gipsies 
were after her ; but it was only the old moon, rising 
solemnly up froin behind the woods. Grace was look- 
ing out for her at her own cottage door. 

“ I have been watching for yoii for more than an 
hour,” she said ; “and, Hester, what made you come by 
the lanes, when you knew that the gipsies were in the 
woods?” 

“ My thoughts were on other things, Grace, and 
I did not remember that they were there until I came 
upon them.” And then she repeated to her friend 
all that the gipsy had said. 

Grace looked grave. “ Hester,” she said, as they 
came to the latter’s garden-gate, “ I haven’t a bit of 
superstition in me; but, some way, I am troubled, — 
things don’t look right. I wish with all my soul you 
would quit ‘ "West Oakland,’ and come back to your old 
ways. I have always felt that a time will come when 
you will be sorry for not having followed your friend’s 
advice.” 

“ Grace, dear,” said Hester, tenderly, “ there was a 
time when I desired very much to follow your example, 
and learn a trade ; but mother thought it would be so 
terrible to throw away such friends as I have at the 


80 


JUDGE NOT,^* 

Hall ; and indeed, Grace, it would seem ungrateful, after 
all that they have done for me, — they are so good to 
me ; so I have determined to let well alone, and trust 
my future to One able to guard me from all danger/’ 

“Well,” said Grace. 

“ Don’t go ! said Hester. “ Come in and sit awhile.” 

The best room was a cosey, cheerful little place, and 
it was Hester’s chief enjoyment to sit in the evening 
between her father and mother, and relate the events 
of the day. To-night she had plenty to tell them, 
about the poor fox, and her meeting with the gi^Dsies, 
and other things. 

Grace was one of the listeners this evening, and when 
Hester had concluded, she said, “ I can’t help thinking, 
Hester, how much you have learned ; jmu talk so well. 
I don’t believe you were born under an unlucky star.” 

“ Tut, tut, Grace,” said Nancy Powers, “ nobody 
can say that o’ ’Ester, sure ; but I s’pose hif a hangel 
should come down here ’e’d ha’e his failings in the hies 
o’ mortals. Now, if ’Ester’s got a hinemy, it be sure 
and sartain to be some evil-minded bod}^, a-jealous of 
her ; an’ what did Simon read not ten minutes before 
5mu two got bin this evening, but just this, ‘ Jealousy 
be as cruel as the grave ; ’ and again, ‘ The cruel have no 
mercy.’ ” 

Grace said good-night, and then the little family en- 
gaged in their usual devotions, and retired. 


CHAPTEE X. 


THE PORTRAIT-PAINTER. 

For a long time it had been a pet plan with Sir Hus- 
ton to take his family to London early that spring. 
He wished to add their portraits, with his own, to the 
long line of ancestral paintings which hung upon the 
walls in the gallery of" the “West Oakland” mansion. 
Quaint and faded faces looked out from darkened, time- 
worn frames, speaking to the living of centuries past, 
of generations gone to mingle with the dust. 

“ Papa,” said Isabella, as they walked together 
through the grand and sombre-looking galleries, ex- 
amining pictures of people and fashions of days gone 
by, “ I wish you could defer this plan of yours a little 
longer, I have so set my heart upon remaining here all 
through this spring. Hester and I have promised our- 
selves so much enjoyment.” She looked up into his 
face almost pleadingly. 

Sir Huston smiled, and patted her cheek. “ Well,” 
he said, “ let me hear what you think of this.” He 
took a letter from his pocket, and, taking her hand, 
led her to the recess of one of the large windows. “ I 
have just received it from our old friend Lord Grumby, 
6 81 


82 JUDGE not;'' oe, 

in answer to one I wrote to him, but a short time since, 
on the subject of the portraits. Now you see he 
recommends as the artist, a young man of genius and 
great talent, but who is as yet comparatively unknown 
to the world. ‘ He needs,’ says Grumby, ‘ but the 
patronage of some one as well known as yourself to 
give him a start. He is in poor health.’ Now,” said 
Sir Huston, as he folded the letter, “ I did think some- 
thing of adopting this plan. Let the young man come 
down here, and perhaps among our pleasant hills, 
where he will be near enough to breathe the sea-breeze, 
he might be fortunate enough to regain his health. 
What say you ? ” 

“ Let him come by all means ! ” Isabella said. 
“ Poor young man ! It will be such a pleasant change 
for him, and save us from going to the disagreeable 
city. It would be such a disappointment to leave all 
the flowers and fruits behind.” 

“ And 3' oil really prefer to risk these portraits in 
this unknown artist’s hands, rather than go to London 
and have them painted by some one who has made 
himself a name ? ” 

“ Yes, papa, I do.” 

“ And I, too,” said Lady Falkstone, just coming in. 
“ Lord Grumby is a cautious man, and would not have 
recommended this gentleman without having good 
reason to think him competent to undertake the work. 
Let him come down to ‘ West Oakland.’ ” 

“Oh, thank you, mamma ! ” exclaimed Isabella. “ 1 
don’t w^ant to go to London.” 

“ The matter then is settled?” inquired Sir Huston. 


HESTER powers' GIRLHOOD, 


83 


“Oh, yes ! ” said the ladies. 

“ Here is a good place for the portraits,” said Lady 
Falkstone, “ by the side of Catherine’s. This portrait 
was a very beautiful one.” 

“ She was my own aunt, papa, was she not? ” Isabella 
asked. 

“ Yes,” he answered, sadly ; “ she was my only sister, 
Lady Catherine Falkstone. Hers was a sad fate. 
This picture was painted just before her marriage.” 

“ And is it true, papa, that she was lost at sea, on 
her voyage to — to — ” 

Lady Falkstone touched her shoulder, and Isabella 
saw that her father had turned away to hide his emo- 
tion. He had loved his sister very dearly, and although 
almost fifteen years had rolled round since the sad 
event of her death, he could not even yet bear to speak 
of it. They all three left the gallery, and Isabella, 
thinking that Hester might be upstairs, left her parents 
at the library door. 

She found Hester in her dressing-room engaged in 
reading, and Roland hovering around, muttering to 
herself. Isabella felt uneasy, for she could not help 
noticing the distrust with which her woman watched 
her friend. Roland was a faithful woman in her 
duties, and was all that Isabella desired as a waiting- 
woman ; therefore she regretted exceedingly that the 
unfortunate suspicion against Hester could not be 
entirely gotten rid of. 

Roland and Grieves were not persons to let such 
matters be forgotten. They had told first one con- 
fidential friend, and then another, until by degrees an 


84 


JUDGE NOT 




. » 

t 


OEy 


exaggerated story of the diamond spray was going 
through the house. Some looked wise, and said, “ Ah, 
I thought so. Haint she a purty one now ! ” While 
others like Mr. Rubens remained true friends to 
Hester, and did battle for her bravely. It kept up a 
continual excitement in the servants’ hall in the even- 
ings when the domestics were together. And many a 
story was related in awful English, of transportations, 
imprisonments, and even hangings, for no worse crime 
than that of stealing a gem so valuable. Thus matters 
went on ; the little spark had kindled a big hre. 

In the mean time. Sir Huston had written to the 
artist, Mr. Markham, and all preliminaries had been 
settled relating to the projected pictures. Mr. Mark- 
ham’s replies to Sir Huston’s letters were modest, and 
couched in simple but elegant language. He thanked 
him most cordially for having considered his health 
and pleasure in the matter, and hoped that it would be 
convenient for Sir Huston to have him commence as 
soon as possible. 

In a few more days the artist was introduced to the 
family^ at “West Oakland.” He was a gentleman, 
they could discover at a glance, although his garments 
were threadbare and glossy with constant use. Mr. 
Markham was of medium height, very thin, dark, and 
sallow, and, though scarcely twenty-eight years old, 
his hair was thickly sprinkled with gray. His ex- 
pression was usually sad, but if for a while he cOuld 
forget care, his eyes would kindle with intelligent fire, 
and his whole face become bright and handsome. In 
having been fortunate enough to secure the patronage 


HESTER powers' GIRLHOOD. 


85 


of Sir Huston Falkstone, penniless as he was, he be- 
held success in the distance. But what if he should 
fail? “ I will not fail ! ” he said. “I will make my- 
self a name, and my country shall honor it ! ” 

Sir Huston did not despise the young man for the 
appearance of his coat. There was something within 
him that won his regards ; and before the pictures 
were commenced, Mr. Markham was the recipient of 
most cordial attention. For, being a man of per- 
ception, Sir Huston saw that he needed recreation, and 
that too much of his time had been spent in close 
application in unhealthy rooms. He at once placed at 
his disposal everything that would in any way ad- 
vance his pleasure, or benefit his health. Thus a week 
had scarcely gone by since the artist’s arrival at 
“ West Oakland,” before he was benefited materially 
both in health and spirits. He had become quite a 
favorite, and Isabella frequently spoke of him to 
Hester, who had as yet only seen him in company 
with Sir Huston at a distance. With all a woman’s 
curiosity, Hester, of course, wanted to know so pleas- 
ant a gentleman. An opportunity presented itself soon. 
They — she, Isabella, and Markham — met in the 
park one afternoon. He had thought Miss FaJkstone 
very beautiful, almost the most beautiful young lady 
he had ever seen, until he saw Hester. There was a 
more tender, holy beauty, a perfectness of outline one 
rarely sees, in her face. Her large blue, tender eyes, 
shaded by lashes of midnight blackness, and her mouth 
so exquisite in its curves, could not fail to attract an 


86 


'‘’‘JUDGE not;** Oi?, 

artist’s admiration. He walked with them to the 
terrace. 

Hester, all unskilled in art, bade her friend good-by, 
for it was time that she should be going home. With 
his usual politeness Mr. Markham offered to walk with 
her. Hester all abashed looked at Isabella. 

‘‘ By all means, Mr. Markham, go,” said Isabella. 
“ The way to the village is a pleasant one, and Hester 
can point out so rnany pretty things which you else 
might fail to notice.” 

They turned down the avenue. 

“ There are more beautiful trees in these grounds 
than I have ever seen in any one place in my life, and 
I have travelled a good deal,” said Markham. 

“Yes, these bordering this avenue are very fine,” 
Hester answered. 

“ There is one, that great giant oak yonder. What 
a trunk it has ! I was examining the cavity in it to- 
day. A few more winter storms and it will be gone I 
fear,” said Markham. 

Hester looked nervously toward the old oak, and 
some of the painful feelings she not long before ex- 
perienced, came over her. Nevertheless she said, — 

“ I should be sorry for it to be blown down. It has 
been such a nice home for the birds and squirrels so 
long. The peacocks, too, love to roost upon its 
branches, and I have seen the deer fiocking to its 
shade in the summer.” 

Mr. Markham seemed not to have minded what she 
said, for he asked immediately after she had finished, 
if she lived near the village. 


HESTER POWERS GIRLHOOD. 


87 


“ I live in the village,” Hester said. 

Markham wished very much to know more, hut he 
was too well-bred to question. He felt surprised at 
her walking to the village, though he well knew the 
habits of English ladies. Was she a relative of the 
Falkstones, or not? The question puzzled him not a 
little. He said nothing, however, and they walked on, 
talking of the lovely scenery before them. There was 
something so fresh, so natural in all Hester’s remarks, 
that Markham felt as if he had but met again with 
some bright spirit he had known in boyhood. He 
inquired her name. 

“ It is Hester Powers,” said the artless girl. 

“ Miss Powers,” he said, as if to impress it upon his 
memory. 

“No, not Miss, only Hester. I am but a, village 
maiden.” 

“ Not ^ connection of the Falkstones? ” 

“ Oh, no ! ” said Hester ; “ there is a wide difference 
between our social positions ; but, nevertheless. Miss 
Falkstone and I are great friends ; we are almost like 
sisters. There is my home yonder, that cottage on the 
hill ! ” 

There was a sort of joyous feeling in Markham’s 
breast as he thought that Hester was only a cottager’s 
daughter, and, as he retraced his steps to the hall, his 
thoughts were full of her, so beautiful, so interesting, 
and bright. He taxed his memory to repeat the words 
she had spoken, and when he retired to his chamber, 
which was in one of the old wings of the building, the 
furniture of which was dark and ponderous, and so 


88 


JUDGE not;” or. 


quaint that one might have supposed that it had been 
made in the days of the giants, he threw himself 
into a chair to think. The soft, bird-like voice was 
present with him still. 

The shadows gathered over the landscape and the 
stars twinkled in the heavens, but still he sat thinking 
of Hester. Lights were brought in high silver candle- 
sticks, and a light fire was kindled, for the mornings 
and evenings were still cool, and the spacious rooms 
were made bright by its pleasant glow. Markham 
wheeled up a great, old carved chair, which was 
lined with rich, but faded damask, and sat before the 
fire. He looked into the red embers, watched the 
sparks as they went up the chimney ; but he thought 
only of the village maiden, and contrasted her, in her 
simplicity, freshness, and bloom, with the London 
beauties, all powdered, puffed, and ruffled. Suddenly 
he sprang out of his chair ; his face seemed in a mo- 
ment to have become younger. There was bright- 
ness in his ej^e, hope in the smile that lighted up his 
face. He walked up and down the room with a firm 
tread. “Wbat if my present work should purchase 
me a name?” he murmured. “Then, then my for- 
tune, or rather, a living, will be sure.” The color 
deepened in his cheek, and his step became quicker. 
“ Ah ! Then my life need not be so lonely, so deso- 
late ! ” He threw himself again into the great oaken 
chair before the fire, and began to dream a waking 
dream. He fancied a pretty home, a little cottage, 
perhaps, in the suburbs of the great metropolis, a 
studio in it, hung around with finished and un- 


HESTER POWERS GIRLHOOD. 


89 


finished pictures. Canvases, too, strewn upon the 
easels, a rose-bush peeping in at the open window, and 
some one, a lad}", jperhaps, leaning over his shoulder. 
His fancies were very pleasing, and he indulged them 
a long time, and, by and by, he fell into a sound, re- 
freshing sleep. 

He was an early riser, and next morning at dawn he 
was up, and so was Roland. And, as Markham was 
going out to take an early stroll, he encountered her on 
one of the landings. Her arms were rolled up in her 
apron, and she looked very much as if she had not taken 
time to dress properly. She was generally exceedingly 
neat ; and, when in dainty cap and ribbons, Roland 
was by no means an ill-looking woman. In her own 
estimation she was pretty, quite so. Now, strange as 
it may seem, the thought had crossed her mind that 
the professional London gentleman, now at “West 
Oakland,” might not be indifferent to her charms. 
“ She had heard of stranger things ; ” beside, the very 
novel she was reading now had just such an affair in 
it. Imagine, then, what very naughty feelings must 
have been produced in her heart when she saw him, 
the very one whom she had set her heart upon, posi- 
tively walking off down the broad avenue, in daylight, 
too, with Hester, that sinful girl, who had coveted her 
friend’s jewels, and the one above all others in the 
world whom she disliked ! She had flown off to 
Grieves, “ her dear Grieves,” in almost a breathless 
state. 

“Now I said how hit wid be, my dear, from the 
first; — that gal’s hambitious,” said Grieves. “But 


90 


JUDGE NOT OEj 

Eolancl, 5^ou ought to be hup to ’er ; or haint you 
pluck enough ? ” 

“ Pluck ! ” said Eolancl, in an injured tone, “ who 
can circumvent the wicked ? 

Now, my dear reader, these two women were ex- 
ceedingly pious persons and could see the smallest 
mote in others’ eyes, while the beam in their own re- 
mained fixed and immovable. They could repeat a 
hundred texts in the Bible applicable to the sins of 
those around them, but, unfortunately, had never hap- 
pened upon the one reading thus : “If any man 
among you seem to be religious, and bridleth not his 
tongue, but deceiveth his own heart, that' man’s relig- 
ion is vain.” Strange they had skipped that awkward 
passage, with many others of a like character, while 
they had pounced, like hungry vultures, upon those 
applying to the sins of others. Hours they would sit 
over the Bible looking up these passages, excited in 
their zeal, and eager to pluck the very last virtue from 
their unfortunate victim. 

Eolancl watched very long for Markham’s return 
from the village. She w^as very curious and very an- 
giy, for she foolishly considered that Hester had been 
infringing upon her rights in permitting the London 
gentleman to walk to the village with her. And before 
retiring, she had stepped very lightly to the gentle- 
man’s chamber door, and on the sheep-skin mat before 
it she had kneeled, — not for any devotional purpose, — 
oh, no ! She had come there to peep ! — peep through 
the key-hole. She could see his face now and then, 
as he walked up and down the room, and was sur- 


HESTER ROWERS* GIRLHOOD. 


91 


prised to see how bright and happy he looked ; and in 
her anger, she attributed it to the true cause, — “ that 
gal ! ” Her heart was very full of bitterness, and she 
left the door determining to keep her eyes wide open, 
and to .watch diligently the comings and goings of 
“ Miss Hester Powers.” “ Up again so early ! ” she 
thought, as she met him on the landing, “ he must be 
going to the village.” 

In this, however, Roland was mistaken ; he only 
went out to walk in the park to take his usual exercise 
before beginning his day's work. He came in in 
time for breakfast, and, as was his custom, as soon as 
that meal was over he went to the apartment now 
known as the “ studio,” and which communicatee! with 
his chambers by a sort of closet entrance. When 
there, at his work, Roland felt contented ; she thought 
him safe from Hester’s wiles. It was, however, 
strange that she should forget that, from the east win- 
dow of the studio there was a full view of the turnpike 
road, the church, and the village. 

By and by Hester came up the road, stopping now 
and then to gather the wild flowers ; and more than Ro- 
land was w^atching for her. When out of sight Mark- 
ham took his seat before his work. A beautiful, half- 
finished picture of Isabella was before him on the 
easel. Those fine, classic eyes were looking out upon 
him from the canvas ; but he only thought of Hester. 
He believed in what he called fate. Fate was leading 
him, — had led him, — to meet with a being such as his 
fancies had pictured to him, even in boyhood, pure, 
beautiful, and bright. Still thinking, he went on with 


92 


JUDGE not;"* 0 / 2 , 

his work ; there was firmness, decision in his touch ; 
he seemed to be inspired with a new power ; the old 
feelings of despondency had given place to hope, to 
confidence. He sang and whistled by turns over his 
work. The future, which, a few weeks before, had 
looked so impenetrably black and hopeless, now 
seemed full of promise ; his work grew, and he had 
the satisfaction of knowing that his patrons were 
more than pleased with his success. 

Whether by accident or design, we cannot say, but 
we know that Hester and the artist frequently met. 
They found the highest enjoyment in each other’s soci- 
ety, and Sir Huston and his lady were pleased to see 
two, whose spirits seemed so congenial, brought 
together. Isabella was pleased also, but she said, “I 
am afraid he will take her away from us. I could 
scarcely live now, without Hester.” 

“ That is selfish, my child,” said Lady Falkstone. 
“ Our highest enjoyments should be in seeking the good 
of others. Markham is destined to become famous in 
his profession ; he will amass wealth. They are worthy 
of each other, and we should not allow a selfish feeling 
to hinder so good a cause.” 

Hester had discovered very soon that Markham 
lacked one thing : he gave no thought to religion. 
He had no desire to look into its mysteries. “ Why 
should we, Hester ? ” he asked, carelessly, one evening. 
“ Isn’t there misery enough in the world without ham- 
pering our thoughts perpetually with the dread of 
death ? ” ' - 

‘‘We should not view it in that light,” said Hester ; 


HESTER powers' GIRLHOOD. 


93 


“ the ^rave hath no dread, no terror for those who are 
believers.” 

“ Teach me, Hester,” said the artist. “ Religion, as 
'^011 possess it, is fair and beautiful. It Tloes not 
m'^ke you dull and severe, but rather lends a charm. 
Per 1 q.aps, if you would try, you might induce me to be- 
come'v^ true Christian.” 

“ do ! ” Hester exclaimed. ‘‘It is so sweet, so 
delightfid to feel that the noio and hereafter are both 
\ provided; for ; that joy and peace are in store for us 
Where J^sus reigns. You will try to become a Chris- 
tinn, will you not ? It is not hard ; there is nothing 
di^cult about it; we are told ‘only believe’ — and — 
will'ypu try ? ” ' 

“ Ye^,^^ester, but you musjt help me. I shall need 
to be guided.” ... 

And Hester did try. She tried to show her friend 
that there were joys above, endless, eternal ; that be- 
3"ond the narrow passage of the grave the mansions of 
God stood with pastures fair and green, and the river 
of life flowing onward for evermore. 

The shadows passed away from the sceptic’s mind ; 
very slowly, however ; but he who had once doubted, 
now believed. Hester had been quietlj^ working a good 
work, while some around her were watching, listening, 
and distorting her very words. The report had gone 
abroad, through Roland, that Hester would soon be 
married, and marvellous were the tales which Grieves 
and others retailed of the young girl’s forward conduct 
in the aflfair. 

“ Oh, you women, women ! ” said Mr. Rubens, one 


94 JUDGE NOtJ* 

evening, after he had heard their chattering for upward 
of an hour, “ why can’t ye leave the child alone? But 
no, it’s just as somebody writ years ago, — 

“‘Naught can to peace the busy female charm; 

If she can’t do good, she must do harm.’ 

“But,” he continued, “ I’ll keep out o’ yer way, for 
the wisest man that ever lived did say, ‘ That a fool is 
accounted a wise man when he holds his tongue.’ ” So 
old Bubens, thinking that by and by this much talking 
would end in either mischief or smoke, kept his peace. 

But as time went on, and Roland saw that all the 
artist’s spare time was spent in Hester’s society, in 
spite of her many efforts to prevent it, she became 
more embittered, and talked imprudently ; and, instead 
of gaining Markham’s good opinion by thrusting her- 
self before him on all occasions, he really entertained 
a dread of her. He saw that she was a prying person, 
having more than once surprised her at her trick of 
peeping. She had a soft, cat-like tread, and one scarce- 
ly ever heard her coming ; she v/as upon you before 
you knew it. 

Having satisfied himself in reference to the woman’s 
habits, Markham kept his studio door locked. He did 
not care to satisfy her cuiiosity. 


CHAPTER XI. 


THE artist’s success. 

For two weeks Markham had been going on, almost 
perfectly undisturbed with his work, finishing the pic- 
tures up. Sir Huston had been in London, and Lady 
Falkstone confined to her chamber, and of course the 
young ladies did not visit the artist’s studio alone. 
Isabella’s picture was finished, and the girl with life- 
like beauty seemed to stand out upon the canvas a 
breathing creature. Markham was in raptures ; for 
now he felt sure that success was before him. No more 
starving, no more racking his weary brain to elucidate 
the problem how he should live. No, his present suc- 
cess would pave the w^ay to fortune. He felt it. 

Now, he walked up and down with hope beaming 
from his e3^es. The finished picture stood in an admi- 
rable position, where a pure light fell upon it, and by 
its side there stood another picture ^ — just the head and 
shoulders of a 3"Oung girl. The abundant and flowing 
hair, the deep blue, tender eyes, the perfect lips slight- 
ly parted, were so almost real that the artist himself 
felt, as he gazed upon it, that life, soul, was there too. 
Markham did not care that another human eye should 

95 


96 


'-’’JUDGE not;** OEy 

see it. It was only made for himself. He was stand- . 
ing before it, intending every moment to return it to 
its secret corner, when Sir Huston and Lady Falkstone 
pounced upon him. 

Poor Markham ! There was no use in crimsoning, — 
no use in trjdng to hide the stolen treasure ; for, with- 
out seeming to notice his confusion, the gentleman and 
lady stood quietly surveying it. 

“ How fortunate you have been in them both ! ” said 
Lady Falkstone. “ They are perfect ; in Hester’s, ex- 
pression particularly.” 

“ How true to life it is ! ” Sir Huston said. “ Hester 
is a lovely girl ! ” 

“ But what is surprising to me is, that Hester is so 
nervous that I should have fancied the sitting for her * 
portrait would have been a most unpleasant task to 
her ; and indeed it was but yesterday that she said it 
would be impossible for her to do so.” 

“ That is singular,” Sir Huston remarked. 

Markham saw that the truth had better be told at 
once ; otherwise Hester might seem to have deceived. 
“Allow me,” he said, coloring to the very roots of his 
hair, “ to put the matter in its true light. The young 
lady never sat for this portrait ; it is a stolen picture, 
and she is even ignorant of its existence ! ” 

The lady and gentleman looked at each other. “ Can 
it be possible ? ” 

“ It is ! ” said the artist ; “ the i^icture is • painted 
from memory.” 

“ Nothing deeper? ” quizzed Sir Huston with a smile. 

The artist smiled too. 


HESTER POWERS^ GIRLHOOD. 


97 


“ Well, well, we shall understand each other by and 
by. You have no objection to dispose of this picture ? ” 

Markham hesitated. “ I had not such a thought ; in 
fact, I have no right.” 

“ I will bear the young lady’s displeasure,” Sir Hus- 
ton said. “ Will you part with it as it is for one hun- 
dred guineas ? ” 

“ Will you permit me to reflect upon it?” 

“ Why? You shall possess the original, we the pic- 
ture. I wish to own so perfect a likeness of my daugh- 
ter’s friend.” 

The bargain was closed ! 

“ One hundred guineas ! ” repeated Markham over 
in his mind. It seemed to him that this sum, together 
with the price agreed upon for the Falkstone family por- 
traits, was a fortune. 

They all three turned to Isabella’s picture. It was 
life-size, and her dress was the same in which she had 
appeared on Christmas-eve, — pale blue, covered with 
rich lace, and girdled at the waist by heavy cords of 
pearls ; neck and arms bare, and in her beautiful hair 
was fastened the little brilliant spray. So perfect was 
■ the likeness, that, as the parents stood before it, they 
almost fancied they could see her move ; while thus 
absorbed, Roland had stolen a peep into the forbidden 
room. 

“ Ah ! now I see. ’Tis no wonder that the bad, de- 
ceitful Londoner kept the door locked. My, my ! ’tis 
g, sinful world, sure, that we Christians do dwell 
hin ! ” She slowly turned away, utterly disgusted with 
“low folks, — them that ’adn’t a drop of Christian 
7 


98 


JUDGE not;"* or, 


blood in their veins.” Suddenly she remembered, or 
supposed she did, how many times she had seen Hes- 
ter “sneaking snake-like” through the house, and of 
course was going to or coming from the studio. 

“ Oh ! the deceit of the wicked creature ! ” said the 
pious Grieves with uplifted hands. “ But haint our 
gentlefolks blind, my dear?” she said with a sigh. 

“ Blind ! ” repeated Roland. “ Oh for another man 
of God to drag the awful scales from their hies ! ” 

“ Wh}^, there’s the parson, the very one a body 
should look to in such times, a havin’ both of ’em over 
to the parsonage to tea, forsooth,” remarked Grieves. 

“ And that’s because he is thinkin’ to marry ’em, 
hoping that the master here will stand the wedding 
expenses, and so will fee him well. Mone}^ ! money ! 
my dear Grieves ; haint hit done a power of mischief 
hin this world, though ? ” — 

“ Money ! money ! — I say, — drat my buttons ! By 
George, ’tis women, — Avomen’s tongues that hae done 
the harm and mischief in this worldf said Mr. Ru- 
bens, who had dropped upon them unawares. “ Now, 
I be an old man, and I kind o’ don’t mind a cat’s- 
paAv, — but I do wonder that ye ben’t obliged to 
kiver up yer faces wey sheer shamefacedness. Don’t 
ye, call yerselves Christians? and ben’t ye readers o’ 
the word, and did ye never see that it be said, ‘ Death 
and life are in the power of the tongue’ ? Be ye bridling 
that unruly member? I can answer for ye. No , — 
‘ A woman’s tongue can no man tame ! ’ — It be, in- 
deed, an ‘ unruly evil, full of deadly poison.’ Now 
your Avords be poisonous seeds, Avhich aa'UI surely, by 


HESTER POWERS GIRLHOOD. 


99 


and by bring your own souls a ’arvest of trouble ! ” 
Down went Rubens’ emphatic fist upon the table, caus- 
ing a great jingling among the glass and plate which 
he had just placed upon it. The women looked at the 
excited old man in alarm, as he pulled his red cotton 
handkerchief over his bald pate. - 

“ Don’t speak so loud, Mr. Rubens ; for mercy’s sake, 
don’t bring the master here ! ” 

“ I can’t help lifting my voice,” said Rubens ; for 
why can’t ye go on yer hown way, and leave the young 
’uns to theirs ? ” 

“ Young ’uns ! sure enough,” retorted Grieves, toss- 
ing her head, and stretching her neck to its utmost 
length. “ Mr. Rubens, I’m ashamed o’ yer hinsinua- 
tions. Just as if we was has hold has the ’ills ! ” The 
insulted lady flounced out of the room with a very 
injured air, while Roland, stepping lightly to Ru- 
bens’ side, said, in th^ very blandest of tones, “ Now, 
dear Mr. Rubens, you may be sure, that neither Grieves 
nor me want to lose your good feelings ; we have a 
very high respect for you, and value you as a good ^ 
Christian brother and friend.” She laid her hand upon 
his arm, and repeated slowly the passage, ‘‘ ‘ If a man 
be overtaken in a fault, you which are spiritual — ’” 

“ ‘Ye that are spiritual ! ’ ” — interrupted Rubens, mov- 
ing ofi*, and lifting both hands. “ What do ye call being 
spiritual ? Be it to sit together o’ nights a feedin’ the 
happetite wey home-brewed beer, and all the while a 
scandalizing o’ them ye should be showing a good 
example to ? — ye be far from being spiritual ! — ye 
be envious and evil-minded, and be in need o’ forgive- 


100 


JUDGE not;” or-, 

ness and pardon ! ” Again, Mr. Eubens’ fist went 
down upon the table, and Mrs. Roland was glad to 
make her escape from his presence. 

As she ran up the stairs, the words which dropped 
from her lips did not indicate that her respect for Mr. 
Rubens was of a very high order. She was angry and 
flushed. 

“ What is the matter, Roland ? ” 

Sir Huston asked the question from the . gallery 
above. 

“ Oh ! — nothing, nothing indeed, sir, but, — but. I’m 
bin a ’urry.” 

“Ah! is that all?” He passed on to Isabella’s 
dress-room, where she and Hester were busy at some 
fancy work. The April showers had kept them in- 
doors all day ; there was one falling then. One mo- 
ment the landscape was glowing in sunshine, the next 
overcast and shadowy. Sir Huston was fond of such 
days, he loved to spend them in the house ; and it was 
one, of his chief pleasures to read to the girls, or tell 
them stories of his travels in foreign lands. Lady 
Falkstone frequently joined this pleasant little group. 
In this way Hester had gained some very useful infor- 
mation ; but, to-day, although Sir Huston announced 
to them that he had something very interesting to tell 
them, Hester seemed totall}" indifferent to his remark ; 
her thoughts were somewhere else and she scarcely 
heard him. 

The truth was, Mr. Markham’s engagement at “ West 
Oakland ” was drawing to a close. The pictures were 
finished, and he had received a communication from 


HESTER POWERS^ GIRLHOOD, 


101 


Lord Grumby to the effect, that it would be well for 
him to return to London as soon as his business with 
Sir Huston was ended. His lordship expressed him- 
self delighted to have heard from Sir Huston of his — 
Markham’s — success, and assured him that the future 
looked promising. 

Almost three months’ intercourse with a man of 
Markham’s intelligence, graceful and pleasant manners, 
combining, as he did, a high moral character, with 
now some of the bright truths, the dawning lights of 
religion, we should not wonder that Hester felt sorry 
to part with him. She did feel sorry, and perhaps her 
heart was not so free as it had been before he had 
crossed her path. He had not told her that he was 
going away. Sir Huston had spoken of it, and he had 
seen the tell-tale blush that had mantled her cheeks. 

The thought shot across her mind, painfully, “ Will 
he go away to London, and forget the village maiden ? ” 
She wished, — and perhaps it was a natural feeling, — 
that she had been born a little higher up in the social 
scale. Every pleasure brings with it its own peculiar 
trial, and Hester began to find that the further on in 
the road through life she got, the more keenly she felt 
the trials which she had to encounter. Troubles in 
childhood soon pass away. A kiss or a gentle word 
has a healing power, but by and by we need more. 
We require patience, — faith. Hester knew where to 
carry her troubles, and she said, from her heart, “ Help 
me to set my affections upon things above.” That lit- 
tle prayer perchance was heard, for Hester never failed 


102 


“ JUDGE NOT** 

to find comfort and consolation in communion with 
God. 

She wished that Markham had told her that he was 
going away, himself ; she was thinking so, when Isa- 
bella called to her to say that the pictures were already 
hung in the gallery, and that Sir Huston had sent for 
them to come down to see them. Yes, there they were, 
in rich and massive frames, hung beside those so old, 
so dark with time. Her own picture, too. How strange 
for it to be there ! Ah ! thaft stolen picture ! The 
beautiful, calm face, looking so mildly forth from the 
canvas, would, by and by, tell indeed, a strange story. 

We say, “Truth is stranger than fiction.” Little 
did our heroine think, as quietly, modestly, she 
passed from day to day, that the story of Hester 
Powers’ Girlhood would go forth to the world. Yet 
here it is, — fragrant with virtue and true piety. Hers 
is a sweet, sad memory, “wafted by the gentle gale, 
ofif, up the stream of time.” 


CHAPTER Xn. 


Hester’s betrothal. 

During Ms stay at “ West Oakland,” Markham had 
become a frequent visitor at the Powers’ cottage. He 
had become quite attached to the old people ; to Simon, 
particularly, who was both entertaining and intelligent, 
and took pride in telling anecdotes as far back as his 
grandfather’s time ; he never wearied of them, never 
grew tired of praising Nancy’s house-keeping, and 
Markham had not been slow to observe the neatness 
and order of the little house ; it was always as neat as 
wax, the floors prettily, sanded in a variety of patterns. 
At all seasons she managed to have flowers of some 
sort in the best roc«n. They all loved flowers, and the 
garden was full of them and the beds were all neatly 
bordered with box or scallop-shells. Their vegetables, 
too, were always more forward then their neighbors, for 
Simon was a skilful gardener. It was now just the 
season when the orchards and fruit-trees were in full 
bloom, and the country was beginning to clothe itself 
in greenness and bud. 

It was Markham’s last evening at “ West Oakland, ” 
and Hester and he were leaving the mansion together. 

103 


104 JUDGE not;” or, 

“Let us go in our old path, Hester,” he said, 
“ down the turnpike. I want to have one more look 
at the open country before I go back to town.” 

They walked on slowly, for they both felt, “ It will be 
our last walk.” They had walked more than half way 
to the village when they stopped, and leaned over a low 
gate to take a long look away over the countrj^ now so 
beautiful. Neither spoke for some time ; but at 
length Markham said, rather abruptly, — 

“ Hester, would you like to live in London? ” 

“ I don’t know,” she answered. “ I have seen very 
little beyond my native village. Once I did go to the 
fair in the next town, but — ” 

“ I mean,” said Markham, “ would you like to live 
in London, — make it your home ? ” 

“ I think I should,” Hester said. “ I have been told 
that there is so much to be seen there, I think I should 
like to live there. ” 

“ I am glad ; ” he said ; “ for Hester, I am going to 
ask your father and mother to give you to me. Will 
you become my wife ? ” 

Hester knew nothing about the foolish mockery 
called “ sentiment.” She had learned to love him, and 
with the candor and true simplicity of her character 
she modestly confessed her feelings and promised to 
become his bride. 

Ah, how bright was the future to them now ! How 
beautiful the prospect to Markham! He had lived 
such a lonely, gloomy life ; but that was behind ; suc- 
cess, happiness, was before him. 


HESTER POWERS* GIRLHOOD. 


105 


“And will father and mother go, too?” Hester 
asked. 

“ They shall live with us, if they prefer to do so ; but 
perhaps they would much prefer to live in their pretty 
cottage in the summer, when we could spend some time 
with them. In winter they should stay with us in our 
little home.” 

“ Oh, yes ! how nicely we will manage things. Father 
would so like to be in London. I have often heard him 
say how much he would like to see Tower Hill, over 
which the blood of the martyrs ran. Yes, we shall be 
so happy. Father shall see all the sights, — dear, dear 
father ! ” 

The last half-way to the village seemed very short. 
They had not said half they wished to when the vil- 
lage came in sight. Those pretty cottages, — those 
village homes, — how peaceful, how inviting they ap- 
peared, on either side of the broad road ! The May- 
flower and the laburnum waved their tops in the pleas- 
ant breeze. The honeysuckle and clematis climbed and 
twined over the rustic porches, and simj^le flowers sent 
forth sweet fragrance from the little gardens. And 
prettiest of all these peaceful homes was the cot upon 
the hill. So Markham thought. He felt happier there 
than in the fine “ West Oakland” mansion with all its 
grandeur. 

Grace Homes had often met with the artist, and Nancy 
had invited her to drink tea with them, it being the 
last evening he would spend with them for some time. 
So she was there, ready to meet them with a smile as 
they came in. And, while Hester went to help her 


106 


'‘'‘JUDGE NOT;^* ORy 

mother, putting a touch here and there, looking at the 
potato-cake, which was sending forth a most appetizing 
odor from the oven, stamping the yellow butter-pats or 
transferring the rich cream from a common blue to a 
finer bowl belonging to the set which Nancy’s mother 
had given to her on her wedding-day, Grace entertained 
the guest. She indulged in her favorite theme, — of the 
days when she and Hester strung buttercups and daisies 
for e'ach other’s necks, or hunted the grasshoppers 
through the tall meadow grass, or chased the butterflies 
from flower to flower. 

“ Oh, they were such happy times ! ” said Grace. 
“ But they were soon over. Why couldn’t they stay 
longer with us? We were so happy when we used to 
angle in the streams with willow twigs and pin hooks.” 

< “They are said to be the brightest and happiest 
years of life,” said Markham. “ My mother used to 
say that youth was made up of golden grains.” 

“ Hester and I were happier then than we shall ever 
be again.” 

“ I hope not,” Markham said, smiling brightly. “ We 
dream in childhood, and awake to higher, holier enjoy- 
ments in riper years.” 

Simon Powers came in then, and presently tea was 
ready. The setting sun sent in a cheerful, tender glow 
through the open doorway, and the genial breeze came, 
too, bringing with it the delicate perfume of the lilac. 

What fairer picture of domestic happiness could be 
presented ! The father’s ruddy face shone with pleas- 
ure as he looked around his pleasant home, upon his 
thrifty wife, and beautiful daughter. His eye beamed 


HESTER POWERS* GIRLHOOD, 


107 


with joy as he received his welcome kiss after his day’s 
toil. — Ah, contentment 


“ Is a jewel which no Indian mine can buy, 

No chemic art can counterfeit; 

It makes men rich in greatest poverty, 

Makes water wine, turns wooden cups to gold. 
The homely whistle to sweet music’s strain; 
Seldom it comes, to few from Heaven sent. 
That much in little — all in naught — content I ” 


Simon owned the jewel, and no king was richer than 
he. His cottage was to him a lordly mansion, and he 
asked for nothing more of this world’s goods than just 
what he already possessed. His daily prayer was, 
“ Continue thy loving-kindness unto thy servant, O 
Lord.” 

This evening, at tea, Hester sat on one side of him, 
and Markham on the other. The old man looked first 
at one and then at the other. “ Will ’e ask me for 
my child, my only one ? ” he thought, as he sipped his 
tea. “ Well, well, I ’ope not.” He drove away the 
unwelcome thought, and talked of other things until 
the meal w'as finished. 

“And now, Mr. Markham,” said Simon, “while 
they’re a clearin’ hup the place, ye might step wey me 
to the garden, to my mind it never looked purtier. I 
haint seed the truck finer or more for’ard for many a 
spring — and has to that, ye might pick nosegays any- 
where, now, for the lanes and hedges be full of flower.” 

“ Yes,” said Markham, “ I am sorry to go back to 
the city, for I am so fond of country life.” 

It was almost dark now, and the two men w’ere 


108 


'•'‘JUDGE not;^^ on^ 

standing together by a little apricot4ree. It was, per- 
haps, the best opportunity he might have, and Markham 
asked the old man for his daughter. “For Hester ! ” 
said Simon, lifting his old, shaggy, white beaver from 
his brow — “ for Hester ! ” There was pain on every 
feature. “ How kin ye ask me for me only one, j^oung 
man? Hester be hall we’ve got; she’s the joy of the 
cot, — the light o’ hour hold days, — ye sm’ely couldn’t 
ask her o’ us ? ” 

“ I know that I am asking a great deal of you,” said 
Markham, kindly ; “ but if I had not done so, some one 
else would. You could hardly expect Hester to re- 
main unmarried very long.” 

“ Ay, that may be so, — that may be so, for Flester 
be a sprightly girl. But ’tis ’ard, j^oung man, ’tis ’ard 
to part with the honly one, though I believe in mar- 
riage. It be a happy life, hif a man gets a good, spry 
wife ; and, thank God, I was a luck}^ man ; my Nancy’s 
a good wife. Did ye speak to Hester about the mat- 
ter?” 

“I did, as we walked from ‘West Oakland,’ this 
evening.” 

“And what is her mind?” the old man asked, his 
troubled face bent down. 

“ She has promised, with her parents’ consent, to 
become my wife.” 

»The old man turned his head, and brushed away the 
tears which were blinding his eyes. “ Ah ! well, well ! ” 
he said ; “if hit be the Lord’s will, we must bow to it. 
But, young man, ye will a’ made the ’earthstone deso- 


HESTER powers' GIRLHOOD. 


109 


late! Ye will be tender to the lamb, — be tender to 
the child?” 

Markham took the old man’s hand. “ I will do all in 
my power to make her life a happy one. Come, cheer 
lip, — you will gain a son, you know. In summer we 
will come down and enjoy ourselves among the hills, 
and in winter we will take you both up to the cit}^, and 
show you the wonders of London. Will you give her 
to me ? ” 

They held each other’s hand, and the promise was 
given. The garden had lost its charm for Simon that 
night. They went back into the cottage. 

Hester had seen them standing by the tree, and 
thought perhaps what they were talking about, and her 
trembling hands could scarcely hold the cups she was 
wiping. 

“ Why, Hester, child, what ails ye? Will ye smash 
me best things? Give me the cloth, for goodness’ 
sake 1 ” said her mother. 

Not a word did Hester say as she flew to her own 
little room to try and compose herself, for she had 
seen them coming into the house. She stood by the 
lattice in the dim evening light, nervously brushing 
imaginary specks from her white apron. As she heard 
her father coming toward her, she could not turn to 
meet his sad face, for she knew how he must feel. 

“ Hester ! ” he said, softly, laying his hand upon her 
head, — “ Hester, dear 1 ” 

Her head was upon his shoulder. “ Be j^er heart in 
this matter, child? Speak plain to yer hold father. 
Do yer love this stranger, Hester ? ” 


110 


JUDGE not;'* or^ 


“Yes, father.” 

“That is enough, — since you were a wee thing, a 
dandling on me knee, child, I ha’e asked for you, 
happiness, — 'ard as it comes to us to part wey ye, I 
will say, ‘ Goodness and mercy have followed me," for 
my prayer be heard.” And then the old man’s face 
was turned upward, while his hands rested upon her 
head. “ Father,” he said, “ bless my little one, and 
keep her forever in thy love.” There was a pause, — 
and then he led her out into the best room, where 
Grace and Nancy and Markham were. “ Take her,” 
said the old man. “Take her, but ye must keep yer 
promise made to me under the apricot-tree. Hester 
ha’e been reared up tenderly, and her ’art be soft and 
tender as a baby’s. Ye will be tender to my child?” 

“ You may trust her to my care,” said Markham ; 
and then there was another pause. Grace had turned 
awa}^ and was weeping silently, while Nancy, in the 
excess of her joy, had brought in a couple of mould 
candles, and stood comparing in her mind the gentle- 
manl3’’-looking young man before her with the “ coun- 
tr^^ clowns,” in blue smock frocks and leggings, who 
had “ dared to cast sheep’ s-eyes at her daughter. Hes- 
ter was born for something better, and would be a 
lad}^ sure and sartin ! ” ^ Nanc3r’s ailments, as usual, 
were forgotten ; she became almost gay, although all 
day long she had been “ half dead with lumbago in her 
back.” Now she was brisk and talkative, and very 
soon the little household had lost all awkward feelings. 
Simon smoked his evening pipe in the corner, and 
Nancy talked to them all. 


HESTER POWERS* GIRLHOOD, 


111 


At nine o’clock Markham rose to go, and the good 
woman found an opportunity at the door to tell him 
how glad she felt that so “ fine a gentleman had fan- 
cied Hester.” 

Hester walked out to the garden-gate with him, 
because long before she would be at “ West Oakland,” 
on the morrow, he would be on his way to London. 
She watched him as he went over the hill, and until his 
form was lost in the deep shade of the valley. Then 
she went into the cottage. 

Markham went on, over the broad turnpike, thinking 
only of Hester, his promised bride. Very little did he 
sleep that night, — he was too busy thinking of the 
future, — too happy. For more than three months he 
had been at no expense, — only making money and a 
name. The check for hundreds of pounds was safe in 
his shabby little pocket-book, and Lord Grumby had 
expressly said that orders wejre waiting for him in the 
city. With two such friends as Grumby and Sir Hus- 
ton Falkstone, what had he to fear ? The poor fellow 
felt almost like a child in his joy and the plans he 
laid for Hester’s happiness ! Sleep ! — no, he could 
not sleep that night. 

His little portmanteau was packed before daylight ; 
he was ready to take his departure from “West Oak- 
land.” He had taken leave of the ladies the evening 
before, but Sir Huston had promised to breakfast with 
him at seven. 

Punctually at the moment that meal was served; 
and the two gentlemen did ample justice to it, and 
then they parteo . There was some staging to be done 


112 


JUDGE NOT 


OEj 


u 


on the first part of Markham’s journey, but the jolting 
of the old “ diligence ” did not annoy him ; he was too 
absorbed in his pleasant day-dreams. 

“ Here we are, just in time ! ” bawled the driver. 
The shrieking engine, too, announced that they had 
reached the railroad depot. And, for once in his life 
Markham felt like a gentleman. The consciousness of 
having money in his pocket made him feel indifferent 
to the gaze of people. ‘ • 

The great babel of towers and smoking chimneys, of 
busy, thronging life, was at last reached ; and St. 
Paul’s, with its great dome, and cross, and the monu- 
ment whose top was lost in the misty atmosphere, were 
before him. 

“ Take a cab, sir?” 

Markham jumped into the first at hand. 

“ Drive me to the ‘ St. George buildings,’ Picca- 
dill}’’,” he said. 

Away rattled the cab. The St. George chambers 
were by no means elegant apartments. They were in 
a high, narrow building, in a narrow, dmg3^-looking 
street, where peddlers and venders of small wares 
kept their stands. The St. George was on the corner 
of said street, and was for the most part occupied by 
struggling young men, — artists, authors, clerks, and 
the like. Chambers on the first floor were, of course, 
rented at a higher rate than the upper. And Mark- 
ham heretofore had found it necessary to live in one 
of its very top ones. Ah ! he almost shuddered as he 
jumped from the cab opposite to the gloomy entrance- 
door. The cabman received his fare, and drove off; 


HESTER POWERS* GIRLHOOD, 


113 


and Markham, portmanteau in hand, ascended one 
after another of the narrow, winding flights, leading to 
his desolate home, — “ chambers,” — so called ! 

The little dusty room looked strangel}^ dreary to 
him as he entered it, and he wondered, as ho stood 
looking around upon the confused masses of old sketch- 
es and art material generally, and breathed the close, 
painty smell that greeted him, how it was that he had 
ever managed to exist in such a place. His old un- 
happy feeling crept back over him. But he had no 
sooner seated himself in a miserable, broken-backed 
chair then there came a knock upon the door. 

“ An’ sure its meself that’s deloited to see ye back, 
Misther Markham,” said a very short, very fat, very 
red-haired woman as she indulged in a succession of 
dips. 

“ Have any letters come for me within the last few 
days, Mrs. Dougherty ? ” inquired Markham. 

“ Sure 3^er honor, and they’re safe, they are,” and 
Mrs. Dougherty proceeded to fumble in a heavy wallet 
at her side, which she called her pocket. ‘‘ Ah ! now, 
an’ here they are sure,” as she handed to him a couple 
of letters tied together with a rather greasy-looking 
string. 

‘‘ Did you get a line from me yesterday ? ” 

An sure jqt honor I did, but then I hated to med- 
dle ; j^our traps be all about so, sir.” 

“ And so you did not wish to clean up, until I came 
to give you instructions, my good woman, hey ? ” 

“ An’ sure yer right, me darlin,” said Mrs. Dougherty’, 
with her good-natured laugh. 

8 


114 


'‘'‘JUDGE not;’" OiJ, 


“ Very well ; I’ll give you a call when I want you. ” 

Several more clips, and Mrs. Dougherty’s fat little 
person was out upon the landing, closing the door after 
her. 

“ lie’s a nice gentleman, sure, though he do live so 
high up, he is,” soliloquized the woman; “and he’s 
growed fat, too, and so well-lookin’. Och, and he’s 
a nice gentleman.” 

It was only four o’clock, just striking ; but it was 
one of those cloudy, dark days when almost everything 
looked gloomy, and in that dingy garret, Markham had 
hardly light enough to read his letters. The view 
from the dust-covered window was anything but 
a pleasant one on fine days ; for, with the exception of 
a narrow strip of gray sky, nothing could be seen but 
a forest of chimney-tops, each contributing its portion 
of black or grayish smoke to the volume ever hanging 
over the mighty city. What a contrast to the scenes he ‘ 
had just left, — the clear sky, the wicle-sprea'ding un- 
dulating country, so fresh and almost dazzling with its 
flowers and blossoms ! Markham sighed and con- 
cluded his letters. One was from Lord Grumb^^, wish- 
ing him to meet him at his club-rooms on the next 
morning. 

Visions of success again began to float around our 
artist. He rang the bell, lighted a cigar, and elevated 
his feet ; and while the. good Mrs. Dougherty is ar- 
ranging matters, getting a sort of little bachelor tea 
and fixing the little sofa-bed, we will, with bur reader’s 
permission, go back a little way in the artist’s life ; 
just to his fortunate acquaintance with Lord Grumby. 


HESTER POWERS* GIRLHOOD. 


115 


They met by accident in one of the little continental 
towns, whither the young man had gone in search of 
cheap living and health. Lord Grumby was a bachelor 
of fifty, excessively fond of good living, very gouty, 
and gloried in patronizing what he termed “ worth** 
He knew everybody, had been everywhere ; and what 
Lord Grumby had not seen, was not worth looking af- 
ter. It was perfectly admissible for him, being an old 
man and a lord, to ask the young man in shabby 
clothes a few questions, — so he thought as he drew 
up his chair and began a conversation. 

“ I was born in London,” the artist answered to 
the question as to his native place. 

“Aw! indeed I and I, too,” said his lordship, 
and with no further delay acquainted himself with the 
3^oung man’s business, prospects, health, together with 
other matters. 

“ Got any of your Tvork with you?” 

Markham soon produced several fine specimens of 
his painting. 

“ Why,” said the old gentleman, in his pompous 
way, “ dull times, you say! My dear fellow, there’s 
a fortune in your brush ; you want a start, — a start, 
that’s all.” 

Poor Markham ! He thought of his worn-out and’ 
empt}?- purse, and involuntarily answered, “ Yes, I 
do want a start.” 

“ Ah ! I thought so. , Have you dined? ” 

Markham had not ; he scarcely ever did, now. The 
old, portly, good-natured gentleman guessed as much. 
He never looked once at the threadbare clothes of his 


116 JUDGE not;” ORf 

new-made acquaintance, but pulled bis arm through 
his own and started off, talking of Rome and pictures 
or anything else he chanced to think of. 

At dinner he swallowed wine until his guest began 
to doubt if he would be able to stand when the meal 
was ended ; but it seemed not to affect him in the 
least. 

“Now,” he said, as he pushed from him an empty 
decanter, “ when I see a young man resist temptation, 
I honor him. I know then that he is made of good 
stuff, and is worthy a lift along the road through life. 
You drink one glass, — I, twenty. Now, Tve met with 
young men in my time who would have felt themselves 
disgraced to have risen from my table and not counted 
glass to glass with me, who am an old toper. There 
was a man, my young friend, and a wise one, who 
spoke thus : ‘ Drink no longer water, but use a little 

wine for thy stomach’s sake, and thine often infirmi- 
ties.’ His advice applies exactly to me, while that of 
another is. most excellent for young men; he says, 

‘ Look not thou upon the wine when it is red, when it 
giveth his color in the cup, when it moveth itself 
aright ; at last it biteth like a serpent and stingeth 
like an adder.’ Ah ! it does, young man ; and when I 
see young men with red eyes and muddled brains, I 
say to myself, ‘ Grumby’s purse-strings shall never be 
untied for them, lest I, too, should help them down 
the road to perdition.’ ” 

“ You are right, my lord. I deserve no credit for 
m}^ abstemiousness, I do not crave it. One glass will 
strengthen me ; more would confuse me.” 


HESTER POWERS* GIRLHOOD. 


117 


Since that day Markham had not wanted for a 
friend. The old lord attached himself to him, intro- 
duced him to his friends, many of whom were patrons 
of art. They travelled to London together, and had 
not been there twenty-four hours before his lordship 
wrote down to “West Oakland,” to his friend, rela- 
tive to the portraits which Sir Huston had Avritten him 
about. The result we hav^e seen. 

Now our friend has returned to London, is back 
again in his gloomy “ chambers,” and anxiously 
waiting the time to arrive when he should meet his 
kind friend and patron ; so impatient was he that he 
was at the club-rooms fully an hour before the time 
appointed by his lorcTship. There were only a few 
persons around at that early horn* ; a few ovei’-dressed 
young men either reading the morning papers or lazily 
sipping a cup of coffee. Markham was not a frequent- 
er of such places ; he was always too poor, too shab- 
by, and, in truth, cared very little about them. He 
was retiring, shrinking ; therefore, felt awkwardly 
upon entering the saloon. Those already there could 
tell in a moment, b}^ his manner, that he was not one 
of them. They looked at him, and then at each other, 
which brought the sensitive blood with a rush to his 
face, while he sat down and nervously seized a paper. 
His e3'e had just rested on a iDaragraph headed, 
“ Family Portraits,” when his attention was engaged 
b}" the conversation of a pair of dandies who had just 
then sauntered in, and had taken seats near him. 

“ Deuced stwange ! ” said one, after having looked 
at a paper for a moment. “ Who can he be ? ’ Pon hon- 


118 


JUDGE not;*' OEj 


or, I thought I knew the names, at least, of all the art- 
men worth remembering, but here we read of one who 
must have dropped from the clouds, so suddenly does 
he make his appearance among us. Read what is said 
of him. By George ! he is a lucky fellow. This puff 
will be as good as a fortune to him. Markham, — 
Markham, — where the deuce have I heard that name? 
Markham ! — Bless me ! Bob, have you forgotten that 
poor devil of a painter who lived in the seventh story 
of the St. George ? ” 

“ Ah, ha ! you could hardly find it in your heart to 
believe him capable of painting such pictures as these 
are said to be. How could he have become known to 
the ‘West Oakland’ family? No — no! It’s some 
new fellow just from the studio of one of the grand 
masters ; and we may expect, for a while at least, that 
the whole of ^London will be able to think of nothing 
else but the great artist ; he will be hunted to death, 
and fabulous prices will be paid for just one daub of 
his brush. So the world goes ! ” 

Markham sat with his eyes on his paper while his 
ears were intently listening to the above colloqu}^ He 
knew well who these young men were. They had once 
occupied chambers on the first fioor of the St. George, 
and had made themseh^es particularly annoying to him 
in the times when he most desired to escape observa- 
tion. They had found out from the portress how 
excessively poor he was, and had most contemptibly 
turned his poverty into ridicule. Since those da^^s 
however, Markham had changed in appearance very 
much; he was stouter, and the sickly j^ellow of his 


HESTER POWERS^ GIRLHOOD, 


119 


skin had changed to one of a healthier tinge ; he was 
better dressed, too, and his eyes were clearer and 
brighter. Poor fellow ! it was hard for him to realize 
that it was he himself of whom the papers spoke. And 
now the young men were busy with muffin and mutton 
chop he quietly commenced to read the elaborate 
description of his work, sent to the “Times’’ by Sir 
Huston Falkstone himself. But before he had gotten 
through the first sentence, he was again interrupted by 
an exclamation from his friends at the next table. 

“Bless my life!” they exclaimed together, while 
they sprang to their feet, overturning the coflee-pot. 
“ There’s Grumby ! my friend Grumby I ” And they 
hurried forward with eagerly extended hand to grip 
his lordship’s. 

“ How-de-do? how-de-do?” said the old gentleman, 
while his keen, twinkling little eyes run round the 
room. “ Ah ! yes, there you are, always in time ! 
How-de-do, my dear fellow?” he exclaimed, while 
seizing Markham by the shoulder. “ Didn’t I tell you 
so ? Seen what the ‘ Times ’ says ? Pardon me, gentle- 
men, — my friend Markham, a splendid fellow, and a 
glorious artist.” 

The two young men bowed, and gazed, and finally 
recognized the poor artist of the seventh story of the 
St. George. 

A few commonplace remarks followed, and then 
Lord Grumby, who never wasted minutes when he 
had business on hand, drew his young friend’s arm 
within his own, bowed and walked away, leaving the 
two to look after them. 


120 “ JUDGE not; ” Oi?, 

“ Well ! ” exclaimed Bob, “ hif that haint deuced 
stwange I don’t know what is ! ” 

“ Just like that porpoise of a Grumby ! ” growled 
Bob’s worthj^ friend. “ Who but him would pick 
acquaintance with a fellow who but a 3"ear ago had 
but one meal a da^^, and that one of smoked sprats and 
stale bread ! Bah ! w^ho cares for Grumb}' , gouty old 
dog ! Come.” They sauntered down the street, both 
secretly emying the felloAV 'who was now having some- 
thing better to eat than smoked sprats. 

As to Grumb}^, he was beside himself with his 5^oung 
friend’s success ; he feasted and trotted him eveiy- 
w’here. He had made up his mind that Markham 
should become a great man in his profession. 

“ Now,” he said, as they found themselves at one of 
the hotel dinner-tables, “you must forthwith come out 
of those St. George chambers ; ^’^ou have been there too 
long. Henceforward let no man guess that your purse 
is empty, or that 3^ou need emploj^ment. Come out, — 
out of 3'our shell ; be bold, daring. Go into a fashion- 
able business location, and hang out your sign. Don’t 
be afraid of spending a guinea or t’svo, nor forget that 
Old Grumby is 3"our friend. B^^ George, how well 
3'ou look ! ” 

In less than three weeks, Markham’s sign hung in a 
conspicuous place, outside the second-story rooms of a 
line brown stone building, in a 'well-known business 
street, and already the “West Oakland” paintings 
■were bringing him in orders. Lord Grumby, also, -was 
'v\^orking diligently for him, and Markham veiy soon 
began to feel eas}- under the comments of the press, as 


HESTER POWERS^ GIRLHOOD, 


121 


well as in purse. He saw prosperity looming up be- 
fore him, and he looked forward to the time when he 
should no longer be lonely after the labors of the day 
were ended. The pretty little suburban home was 
still in his mind. 

Hester received from him regularly every week a 
long letter, in which he described his paintings, spoke 
of the future when they would never more be parted ; 
and in return he received letters neither remarkable 
for orthography, rhetoric, or style ; but they were all 
he desired. They spoke the language of a true and 
gentle heart, breathing of hope, and that beautiful 
simplicity and earnest piety ever attractive and pleas- 
ing alike to stranger and friend. 


CHAPTER Xin. 


THE ROBBERY. 

There was a puzzled expression on Isabella’s face, 
as she stood resting one elbow on her toilet. There 
was also a confused appearance around her boxes. 
Jewel-cases and drawers were standing open, and 
their contents jumbled together, as if she had been 
impatiently searching for something. 

“It is strange ! ” she said, pressing her hand upon 
her forehead, — “ very strange ! I would sacrifice my 
life before I would be unjust, hasty, or unkind to you, 
Hester. The brilliant spray, I said nothing about 
to my parents ; when it was restored, I forgave you, 
even tried, against my judgment, to believe you inno- 
cent. The ring went, but I said nothing. But this, — 
this I cannot hide. It is too glaring a crime. O Hes- 
ter, 3"ou have proved unworthy of our love — our 
trust ! ” 

Isabella was pale, and in her eye there was a hard, 
fixed, determined look ; a proud curl upon her lip, — 
just as her father would have appeared under the same 
circumstances. 

About two houi's before, Sir Huston had stood with 

122 


HESTER TOWERS* GIRLHOOD, 


123 


his daughter at the same toilet. He had been called 
off to London quite unexpectedly, and had come to 
Isabella’s dressing-room to say good-by. While stand- 
ing at the toilet, he had opened a jewel-case, and tak- 
ing from it an exquisitely small and jewelled watch, 
said, “ You wished me to touch the regulator, did you 
not, daughter ? ” 

Yes, papa ; the watch is so small and delicate that 
I would rather not attempt it myself.” It had been 
made to order but a short time before, and Sir Huston 
had presented it to her on her seventeenth birthday. 

As he laid it on a velvet cushion on the toilet, he 
said, “ The chain you shall have on my return. I will 
bring it down with me.” In a few more minutes Sir 
Huston was galloping across the park. The air was 
delicious, and Isabella slipped out through the open 
window upon the balcony to watch him. While she 
was there she Saw Hester coming up the avenue. 
She was walking slowly, being apparently in deep 
thought. When near to the house, she stopped, con- 
sidered for a moment, and then walked out under the 
shade of the great oak. It was the first time she had 
voluntarily gone near it since the day when Isabella 
had found the diamond spray at her feet. Now -she 
seemed not to think of the unpleasant' occurrence ; she 
was interested in the busy clatter of the birds up in 
the branches. While Isabella was watching her, she 
thought of it, and said to herself, “ I wonder when the 
mystery will be cleared away.” She went back to the 
room to meet Hester, whom she had just seen enter the 
Hall. 


124 


JUDGE NOT 


u 


. 




After the usual pleasant greeting, Hester threw off 
her little rustic hat, and was about to pass from the 
dressing-room into Miss Falkstone’s chamber, when 
she caught sight of the tiny little watch sparkling on 
its crimson cushion. She stepped back, looked at it, 
and said, “What a perfect thing it is!” Poor girl! 
Suddenly she recollected that in a similar way she had 
expressed herself about another gem just before it had 
been lost. The thought of it brought the blood rush- 
ing to the roots of her hair. Isabella noticed it, but 
said nothing ; and they went together into the 
chamber. 

“ Come, Hester,” Isabella said, “ let us have a good 
time and read. I have such an interesting book. We 
are almost entirely alone. Papa has gone to London 
for a day or two, on business, and mamma is out, 
riding.” 

“ I am sorry it should happen so to day,” Hester 
said, thoughtfully, “because I cannot stay long.” 

“Not stay! Why?” Isabella asked, in a disap- 
pointed tone. 

' “ Father is quite poorly to-day, and not able to go 
to his work, and he asked me not to be away from him 
long. He is not often sick, but when he is, he 
loves to have me by ‘him to smoothe his head or read 
to him.” 

“ I am sorry he is not well, dear Hester, and, much 
as I should like you to remain with me, I could not ask 
you to neglect your father,” Isabella said. 

Hester had been thinking while Isabella spoke, — 
thinking and listening, too. “ Father,” she said, “ is 


HESTER POWERS* GIRLHOOD. 


125 


only a poor cottager, clear Isabella, — is not above his 
labor ; he is happy and contented with his humble lot — 
and,” — the girl’s face became radiant with love as she 
spoke, — “ oh, he is such a good and noble man !” 

“ Your parents will miss you, Hester, by and by.” 

“ Oh, please don’t speak of it ! I cannot bear to 
think of leaving them. They have brought me up so 
tenderly ; but, then, they will like to see me settled, 
for I am to have a pretty home, and they will come 
and stay with us. Isabella,” — she said, in a softer 
tone, — “I shall be so very, very happy ! ” 

They talked on thus for perhaps an hour, when 
Hester said, ‘‘ I must go now ; father is expecting me 
now, I am sure. Can I do anything for you before I 
go, dear Isabella ? ” 

“Oh, no,” she answered, kindly. “I shall not be 
lonely.” She held up her book playfully, and then 
added, “ Roland will be back from the village soon, 
and mamma from her ride, and then we are to have 
company to dinner.” They kissed each other, and 
parted at the dressing-roon^ door. After which, Isa- 
bella returned to her chamber, threw herself upon a 
divan, and settled herself to read. Hardly had she 
composed herself, before a sort of stealthy, rustling 
sound in her dressing-room aroused her. She looked 
up, and called, “ Roland ! Hester! Is it you?” A 
second time she called ; but there came no answer. 
“It is the wind in the curtains,” she thought, as she 
again turned to her book, and had read a page, when 
the same sound attracted her attention. It seemed to 
her like the rustle of dress and a stealthy step. Again 


126 JUDGE not;'* OB, 

she called ; but there came no answer. She threw 
down her book, and stepped out quickly into her 
dressing-room. There was no one there ! She went to 
the door, and* looked dqwn through the long corridor. 
To her amazement she saw, or thought she saw, Hes- 
ter, only then about to turn down the stairway. No 
one else was to be seen. The servants at that hour 
were rarely in that part of the building, excepting 
those in attendance upon the ladies. 

Bather a strange feeling came over Isabella, and she 
wondered for what Hester had returned, and why she 
had not answered her call. To satisfy herself that it 
really was Hester she had seen, she stepped out again 
upon the balcony. She was not mistaken. It was 
Hester ! 

Isabella stood leaning against a pillar, looking after 
her friend. The old gardener, too, leaned upon his 
rake and watched the girl as she slowly walked away. 
Something seemed to have attracted her, and, instead 
of going directly homeward, she had taken a rather 
circuitous route. Isabella was more puzzled than 
before ; she went back into her dressing-room, saying 
to herself, aloud, “ Hester does so curiously some- 
times.” 

Passing the toilet-table, she turned to look at her 
little watch, — it was not there ! It was gone ! “ Not 
here ! gone ! gone ! ” she exclaimed. “ What does it 
mean ? ” The color forsook her very lips, and with a 
trembling hand she pulled forth boxes and drawers, 
and rummaged their contents, knowing all the while 


HESTER POWERS GIRLHOOD, 


127 


that but a short time before it was ticking away upon 
its crimson cushion on the toilet. 

Suspicion, ah, cruel thing ! it came back upon her 
with tenfold power, but with it .for a little while there 
came pain, — sorrow ; for Isabella loved her friend. But 
as conviction strengthened itself, the sorrow passed 
away, and was succeeded by a proud, determined, un- 
flinching look. Isabella was prepared to act out what 
she considered her duty to the letter. “ The matter 
shall now be sifted ! ” she said. “ I will no longer be a 
partner in guilt, by keeping the Imowledge of crime 
locked in my breast.” Her flgure was drawn up, and, 
as she paced up and down the room, there was neither 
pity nor leniency on her countenance. Her nature was 
like her father’s ; she felt within her deepest heart that 
her friend was guilty of crime, and for that crime must 
suffer the penalty. 

“ Twice, twice,” said Isabella, “ have I shielded her 
from shame, disgrace ; and though feeling, knowing 
her to be guilty, I have still kept her a cherished Mend 
in my heart.” 

Very pale, very erect was Isabella in her indigna- 
tion. 

“ From this moment I will banish you forever from 
my heart. I have trusted, — you deceived ; I have 
shielded, — you have robbed me. O Hester ! Hester ! 
Had mine enemy done me this wrong, I could have 
borne it ; but you^ Hester, yow, mine own familiar 
friend ! Oh, how could you dishonor yourself so 
much? How could you bring disgrace and sorrow 
upon your poor old parents ? ” 


128 


JUDGE not;^^ or, 

Again for a moment her hand was pressed upon 
her brow, and, while standing thus, Eoland came in. 

“ My young lady,” said the woman, looking wildly 
at the confused toilet and then upon the expression of 
the young lady’s face, “ what ’as ’appened?” 

“ Close the door, Eoland. My little watch has been 
stolen.” 

“ Stolen, my lady ? ” 

“ Stolen ! ” repeated Isabella, sternly. 

“ Ah ! my lady,” said Eoland, while her exultant 
heart gave a leap, “ I’ve ’ad my hies about me hever 
since the bother affair ; an’ hif I’d ’ad a right, ma’am, 
— but then I ’adn’t, and so kept things to meself, — I 
should have sot you on your guard ; for I couldn’t ’elp 
thinking that ’twasn’t wise in a lady like you, ma’am, 
to make a bosom-friend and companion of a maid, born 
in low life, like — like her.” 

“ Perhaps we have been wrong,” Isabella said. 
“You have had no confidence in Miss Hester since — ” 

“ Never ! never ! my young lady, though you tried 
3^our best to make me ; but, since the first, I never 
could feel safe ; I was uneasy halways ; for, my ouug 
lad}’-, what have the like of me, but our characters ? ” 

Up went Eoland’s handkerchief, and for several mo- 
ments she sobbed and sniffled, though not a single 
tear came forth from the deep fountain. 

“ Which way did you return from the village, Eo- 
land?” Isabella asked.- 

“ I corned round by the brook, my lad^^, just to get 
a snuff of the ’edges, and when I come to the stepping- 
stones, where we cross, I turned my ’ead, and away 


HESTER powers' GIRLHOOD, 


129 


up about a stone’s throw, there sat Miss Hester on the 
bank ; an’, now come to think of hit. I’d take my 
oath upon hit, that, as soon as she spied me, she 
stuffed something in ’er pocket.” 

“ Did you not speak to her?” 

“ Well, ma’am, I never ’ad any liking for her, and 
since that bother affair I haint cared to waste words 
wey ’er, — that’s the truth ! I didn’t speak, though she 
did ; she said, in her purtiest tone, ‘ Good-morning, 
Holand ; isn’t it a nice day ? ’ ” 

“ Silly girl ! ” Isabella said, turning away, for she 
felt half ashamed of having held so long a* conversa- 
tion on such a subject with her maid. 

“Roland,” she said, turning round quickly, “I de- 
sire that you will say nothing about this in the house ; 
by talking sometimes one is apt to fall into trouble ; 
arrange this . toilet, and, when Lady Falkstone comes 
in, say that I would like it if she could come to me in 
my chamber.” 

Isabella shut herself in her room. She found it 
hard; even now, to tear from her heart one whom she 
had so long loved with the deepest and tenderest af- 
fection ; she fell upon her knees and buried her face in 
her hands, asking, in broken and tearful sentences, for 
guidance in this most singular and trying circum- 
stance. 

Hurriedly Roland an’anged the toilet, and noiselessly 
did she fly below stairs ; her heart was brim full, and 
things were turning out just exactly as she had pre- 
dicted. She found Grieves up to “ ’er hies ” in busi- 
ness, looking over her lady’s wardrobe. When Roland 
9 


130 


JUDGE not;” or, 


siiddenl}^ burst in upon her, she was holding up a half- 
worn brown silk, which she half expected would soon 
become hers. 

‘‘ Why, goodness mercy ! my dear ; what on earth’s 
the matter?” she exclaimed. 

“ Matter ! matter ! my dear me ! said Roland, bend- 
ing forward, and shaking her head ominously, “ there 
, be matter now, sure enough ! ” 

“ Mercy me, woman, tell hit ! and don’t look so haw- 
ful. You scare me wits hout of me ! ” 

“ Oh, my ! Orieves ; my young lady’s little new watch 
be gone, now.” 

“ What ! ” The brown silk dropped upon the floor, 
and the terrified Grieves into a chair. 

“ What’s the world coming to? ” she exclaimed. 

“ Let me tell you. Grieves, this time ’taint going to 
be after the bother afiair, ’a ’ushed hup. This will be a 
law business ; I can read hit in my young lady’s face. 
My, but there’s going to be a time of hit, now ! ” 

“But what a goose of a creator, to be sure ! ” said 
Grieves, “just when she was a acting so Christian- 
like to her, and ’iding of ’er faults, and when she was a 
going to marry so well, — what was the body thinking 
.of ? A tine, gentlemanly-looking, well-mannered man, 
too ; but then he’s well rid of such as she.” 

“This is a sinful and corrupt world,” Roland said, 
with a deep groan ; “ and oh, but I feel thankful to be 
out of hits hiufluences, that is, above ’em.” 

“ There’s Lady Falkstone’s bell,” said Grieves, 
springing to her feet. 


HESTER powers' GIRLHOOD. 


131 


“ I’ll answer hit,” Roland said, “ for I have a message 
to take ’er.” 

Lady Falkstone had that moment come in from her 
ride, and was still in her closely fitting habit when 
Roland entered the room. Never had she appeared 
more beautiful than now when she turned to meet the 
woman. Her ^ce flushed with exercise, and her large 
eyes sparkled with good-humor and health. 

“ Is Grieves not about? ” she inquired, pleasantly. 

“ She is, my lady ; but Miss Falkstone desired me to 
say that she would like to see you, my lady, before 
the guests arrived.” 

“ Where is Miss Falkstone? ” the lady asked, some- 
what surprised. 

At that moment Isabella came into her mother’s 
room. She was disti’essed ; she had been calmly think- 
ing of what must follow, and she was suffering for 
Hester. Her eyes were red and swollen, and her hair was 
pushed back from her forehead in a disordered way. 

“ In mercy’s name, child ! ” exclaimed Lady Falk- 
stone, “ what is the matter? Has — has any accident 
happened to your father? ” she almost gasped. Roland 
left them, and closed the door after her. ‘‘ Isabella, 
speak to me ! ” said the lady again, for the girl’s tears 
were choking her words. 

“ Nothing has happened to papa,” she said ; “ only 
bear with me a moment, dear mamma, and I will tell you. ” 

They sat side by side on a low couch, and Isabella 
leaned her head on her mother’s shoulder, while she 
entered into all the particulars of the lost jewelry. 


•132 


‘‘ JUDGE not; ” OiJ, 

“ Mamma what are we to think? ” she asked, when all 
had been told. 

“ Think ! ” repeated Lady Falkstone, bitterly ; “ only 
that we have been most wickedly deceived.” 

Had Hester not gained heretofore so warm a place 
in their hearts, they would not now have felt so bit- 
terly toward her ; had they not loved her, the robbery 
would have cost them no suffering. They had taken 
her into their hearts and loved her, had ministered to 
her comfort, happiness, in every way, and even then 
Sir Huston was absolutely making arrangements to 
endow her with a comfortable wedding portion. These 
thoughts made her crime appear to them of a darker, 
blacker character, and determined them at once to put 
from them forever a name which would henceforth be 
branded with shame and crime. 

Lady Falkstone’s proud nature rose up in all its 
strength, and Isabella sat shivering to think of what 
must inevitably be the fate of her recent friend. 

“ Isabella ! ” said Lady Falkstone, sternly, “ rouse 
yourself. Would you sit and lament over one so ut- 
terly unworthy even of your pity? Would you take 
back to your heart a viper that already has thrice 
stung yau ? — Kemember ! ” and the lady’s lofty form 
became more erect, her face more stern. “ Remem- 
ber that her crime will bring your name before the 
world ! Yes, Isabella Falkstone’s name will go forth 
with hers, and the vulgar as well as the refined will 
know that you, the daughter of a noble house, could 
find no loftier friend than a village maiden ! ” 

The day waxed on. Guests came and departed. 


133 


HESTER POWERS^ GIRLHOOD. 

There was music, and smiling faces, too, while 5^et a 
dark sliadow rested over the “West Oakland” house. 
The theft was no longer a secret ; and servants talked 
in groups, wondering what would be done in the mat- 
ter when the master should return. 

Mr. Rubens, poor old. man, had nothing to say at 
first. He wiped the drop& from his ruddy face, — ay, 
and a little moisture from the corner of his eye, 
while his kind and tender heart went out in a prayer 
for the guilty one. “ If she be guilty, — if she be, I 
say,” he said aloud, — “ the Lord be merciful to her ; 
for she be in hard, stern hands, and oh ! I do feel 
afeared that the law will be upon 'er. Temptation ! 
oh ! it be a hard thing for us all to resist. But, blessed 
Lord, be with the poor lamb ; her friends will forsake 
her now, — but don’t thee ! ” He turned his face away 
from those who were ready, as it were, to fleece the 
“ lamb,” and wept. The old man’s breast heaved, and 
the big round tears ran down his wrinkled cheeks. 

Since noon, Hester had been sitting by her father’s 
side in the best room of the cottage. Nancy was 
there, too, busy as usual with her needle, after the 
little “jobs about the place ’’were done up. Simon 
had been very poorly during the first part of the day ; 
but having been well dosed with the never-failing 
“ yarh tea” he felt better, and was glad to have Hester 
read to him a little. Everything around, both in-doors 
and out, looked so sweet, so peaceful to the girl, — she 
was very happy ! As she had passed through the vil- 
lage on her way to “ West Oakland,” in the morning, 
she had called at the post-office, and received her 


134 “ JUDGE not; ” OiJ, 

weekly letter from Markham. It was longer, more 
earnest, and of deeper interest than usual : and as 
Hester sat by her father, she could not help thinking 
about it ; and now and then she spoke of it to him. 
“ He is going to be rich, father,” ishe said, “ and you 
and mother are to live with in our pretty home. 
And we both will do so much for you, and then you 
shall not work so hard in the sun, and the cold, and 
the rain.” 

“ God bless thee, my child ! ” said the old man, as he 
pressed her soft little hand within his own, or twisted 
one of her pretty curls around his rough fingers. 
“ God bless thee ! but, Hester, thee hair won’t be 
seemly like this, when ye be a married woman ; ye’ll 
have to tuck it up, — tuck it up, child, like the rest o’ 
’em ; for by and by ye’ll be a dandling the wee ones on 
yer knee, and a wearing o’ caps like yer mother did 
before ye. But Hester, child, ye mustn’t forget the 
old days, never! Ye won’t see sights o’ that kind hup 
in Lonnontown.” The old man was pointing, through 
the open doorway, out into the pretty garden, where 
the rose-bushes almost made a hedge around, and 
which were covered thick with buds and flowers. 
Then there were the gay tulips, and dahlias, and wall- 
flowers, and double daisies all around upon the beds ; 
and the honeysuckle had called out the bees, and their 
pleasant buzz came into the cottage like music. 

Even old puss, as she enjoyed the sunshine on the 
porch, seemed hap[)ier than usual. Ah ! around that 
pretty cottage there seemed to be a sort of hol}^, 
peaceful calm, — that calm which bodes the coming 


HESTER POWERS^ GIRLHOOD. 


135 


storm. The twilight came, and then the stars, and 
still the dove of peace lingered with outstretched pin- 
ions. Did he dread to fold them ? 

The candles were lighted and put upon the table, and 
Hester read aloud to them. 

“Now put up your book, and read a chapter in the 
Bible, me darlin’.” 

Hester’s rich voice and earnest manner touched the 
hearts of both father and mother, and, as she closed, 
Simon caught up the spirit, and in a simple, fervent 
prayer, asked God’s blessing on all present and ab- 
sent. 

A holy calm, a lofty Christian resignation, settled 
upon this loving household as they separated for the 
night. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


Hester’s accusation and arrest. 

The Sabbath bells, how musical were their chimes ! 
The hills caught up the sounds, and the echoes an- 
swered in low, sweet tones. The children sitting in 
the cottage doorways sang merrily with the birds, 
until by and by they were made ready for Sund^iy 
school, and hand in hand they went on, talking per- 
chance of their dresses or ribbons, childlike. 

Hester and Grace were not scholar^ now ; they each 
taught a class, and they very soon followed the chil- 
dren. It was a pretty sight, — teachers and scholars, 
alike summoned by the bells, were seen walking slowly 
up the avenues of that old church-yard, where the tall 
grass waved over the lowly graves of the departed. 
Seldom did levity appear in its precincts. There was 
something about it so solemn that all alike were, in- 
spired with a feeling of awe. 

As Hester catechised her class that Sabbath morn- 
ing, the rector of the church stood by her side. He 
had been always exceedingly fond of her, and consid- 
ered her a most exemplary young Christian, — > a pat- 
tern in the church. This morning as the school was 

136 


HESTER powers' GIRLHOOD. 137 

dismissed, he took her hand between his own, and said, 
“Hester, your little class will miss you; but I trust 
the little seeds you have dropped by the way will 
. spring up with blessing by and by. May the Lord 
ever keep you in his love, my child ! ” He went into 
the vestry-room, and Hester to her pew in the 
church. Only a very few persons were there. All was 
quiet and solemn. The subdued light coming in 
through the stained windows threw around the sacred 
chamber a sort of mysterious sanctity ; and Hester 
felt her thoughts ascend upward to the “ temple not 
made with hands, eternal in the heavens.” 

The congregation at length gathered ; and Hester, 
as usual, looked for the Falkstones, for Isabella never 
failed to give her a smile as she passed to her pew. 
To-day there was no smile for Hester. Isabella and 
Lady Falkstone had passed proudly by, venturing' not 
a single look toward the expectant girl. The service 
opened with the solemn words, “ Enter not into judg- 
ment with thy servant, O Lord. For in thy sight 
shall no man living be justified.” Hester saw in a 
moment that Isabella did not as usual participate in 
the service ; she kept her seat. Just her head was vis- 
ible above the pew. Hester became anxious, feeling 
afraid that her friend was not well ; and she really 
wished for one look at her face. But Miss Falkstone 
did not turn, or seem to move, until the hymn had 
been concluded, and the text chosen for the sermon 
had been read slowly by the rector. It was a strange 
passage, and it fell strangely upon the ears of a few, 
at least, of those present. “ With me, it is a very 


138 


JUDGE not;** OB, 

small thing that I should be judged of you, or of man’s 
judgment ; yea, I judge not mine own self. For I 
know nothing by myself, yet am I not hereby justified, 
but he that judgeth me is the Lord.” 

“ How singular ! ” thought Isabella, as she turned 
for an instant to look at Hester, to discover, if possible, 
for what purpose such a passage had been chosen ; but 
Hester’s eyes and thoughts were also fixed upon the 
rector’s face, while a second time he repeated the text, 
and Isabella saw nothing more than a quiet, earnest 
expression ; a face indicative of purity, — not crime. 

All through the service Hester felt strangely. She 
could not account for her feelings ; and as soon as the 
service was over, she went out into the porch, for 
there she generally joined her friend for a few mo- 
ments before going homeward ; but, to her utmost 
astonishment, the ladies of “West Oakland” did not 
deign her a single look as they swept haughtily by. 
She looked after them with a vague, strange pain at 
her heart, while they walked down the cedar aVenue, 
and until the carriage had rolled away from the 
entrance-gate of the church-yard. Twice Grace had 
touched her, but there seemed to be no feeling left in 
her flesh. 

“Hester, — Hester, don’t stand here! See how the 
people are looking at you. Come,” said Grace. And 
Hester tried to walk, but her limbs seemed powerless. 

“ Grace,” she said, at length, “why did they act so 
strangely? Why did Eoland and others look at me 
so ? ” She looked into her friend’s face with a strange, 
wondering look. 


HESTER POWERS^ GIRLHOOD. 


139 


“Don’t talk here, Hester; try to come now; com- 
pose 3"Ourself, and we will talk it over b^^-and-by.” 

They did go home, but Hester’s- heart was heavy, 
and her face looked sad, perplexed. She tried very 
hard to be bright as usual ; but oh ! it was a relief in- 
deed when she could be alone in the quiet of her own 
little chamber. Sunday as it was she wrote a few 
lines to Isabella, asking, in her own simple and affec- 
tionate wa}^, to know in what way she had offended 
her. Simon did not know the contents, or guess his 
daughter’s feelings ; he said that he was going out for 
a stroll by and by, and wouldn’t mind Walking to 
“ West Oakland” with it himself. So he put the note 
into the pocket of his big red plush vest, and Hester 
stood at the garden-gate watching him as he walked 
over the hill. 

Anxiously, very anxiously, did she wait for his re- 
turn, and her heart beat almost audibly when he 
appeared in sight. 

“ Hester,” he said, as he sat down in his own chair, 
“ Hester, child, there be some’ot up ; there’s a sompin 
goin’ on j^onder hat the ’all.” 

“Why, father? What sort of something?” Hester 
asked, growing somewhat pale. 

“ Well, I couldn’t get nothing out o’ nobody, child. 
The men-folks and the women-folks looked at me, and 
looked, till I begun to feel all queer-like. Nobody but 
Old Rubens keered a bit to be civil to a body. He 
tooked your note hup to the young lady, and arter a 
while I got this message, that to-morrow you should 
hear from them. Now, Hester, I ben’t suspicious, but 


140 


JUDGE not;'' OiJ, 

from the way things looked yonder, I did feel awkward 
and bad, as hif there was trouble brewing. Was all 
well w'hen ye quit the place yesterday ? ” 

' “ Oh, yes, father! I never knew Isabella to be kinder. 
But what can it mean ? It does seem odd to act so ! ” 
“ Well, child, ye’ll soon quit there altogether, an’ 
hif trouble be made, why ye must just bear it quietly. 
But mind ye, I be poor and old, but I ben’t going to be 
trifled with. Rubens told -me months ago that ye had 
some enemies around ye in the women-folk, who was 
jealous of ye. Now hif they have gone and made real 
trouble for ye, old as I be, they shall know that there 
be a law bin the land for the poor man as well as the 
rich. I have often told ye, child, that no honester 
folk than the Powers’ ever lived. Not one of ’em got 
a stain upon his name, and not one of ’em ever 
wronged another out o’ a farthen I ” 

The old man was growing excited, and Hester laid 
her hand quietly upon his arm. 

“Father,” she said, “what shall harm us if we be 
followers of that which is good ? There is no one in the 
world able to bring me into real trouble. Some may 
talk and make mischief, and even that would soon 
pass over, for I have never injured any one in my life.” 

“ The world be a cruel one,” said the old man, “ an’ 
there be thousands hin it alway ready to' put their 
heels upon the necks o’ the weak. Haint hit said 
‘ trust not in an harm o’ flesh’ ? Yes, child I and j^e’ll 
find out before ye die that a body’s friends be as 
spiders’ webs in the day o’ trouble.” 

“ Well-a-day, Simon, haint ye a done preaching yet ? 


HESTER POWERa^ GIRLHOODx 141 

Do talk sense as ye most times do ! Whose going to 
’arm us or the girl? ” said Nancy, giving a few more 
nervous touches to the little tea-table. “ Come, let’s 
have tea. This mornin’ before church-time I went 
hout a rootin’ among the beds, hand I picked nigh 
upon a pint an a ’alf of strawberries. Bless me, 
Simon, can’t ye be yerself ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, father ! ” Hester said, kissing his brow ; 
cheer up, let’s be ‘ happy while we may.’ 

“ Ye be a blessed child ! ” the old man said, as they 
took their seats around the tea-table. 

Depressed as Hester felt, she tried very hard to be 
outwardly cheerful ; though every little while her 
thoughts would run upon Isabella’s strange behavior 
in the morning. She thought, too, of the diamond 
spray, and. the gipsy’s words came again in her ears ; 
and she felt very glad when night came, for she said 
perhaps to-morrow things will look brighter. But 
alas ! she only slept to dream of painful things. Once, 
she thought that a hungry wolf was hunting her as the 
hounds did the poor fox, and she cried out in her 
suffering, “ Father, save me ! save me ! ” But it was a 
dream ! only a dream ! Nevertheless the terror she 
^ endured then clung to her in her waking hours. It 
seemed hard for her to keep up, yet she took her sew- 
ing and sat down in the window-bench, and tried to be 
cheerful. Sometimes her work lay in her lap, and 
there rose up a feeling of pride within her. “ I am en- 
titled to common courtesy at least,” she thought. “If 
I have offended Isabella, she should be willing to tell 
me how.” She turned her head to look out of the 


142 


“ JUDGE J^OT; 022 , 

window, for some one was opening the garden-gate. 
It was old Mr. Rubens ! 

Hester did not wait a second, but flew with a beat- 
ing heart to meet- him. 

“ O Mr. Rubens ! ” she said, “ I am so glad to see 
you. What has happened at the Hall ? ” 

“Happened?” the old man repeated the word, 
while he looked down upon the sweet face that was 
looking up intp his so unconscious of evil. “ I be in- 
structed to give ye this, poor child ! ” he said, “ and 
may the Holy Father above help thee ! ” 

Hester’s face grew very white, white as the pale 
lilies on her garden-bed, and Rubens turned to go 
away. » 

“ Don’t go ! don’t go ! ” she almost shrieked, as she 
grasped his hand, and the dread of some fearful evil 
smote upon her heart. “Oh! I will not, cannot let 
you go until I know “what it is ! What has hap- 
pened ? ” 

“ Child, child,” said the old man, “ ye shall never 
’ear it from my lips. All Old Rubens can say is this. 

‘ Be ye strong in the Lord, and in the power of his 
might.’ Don’t ye sink, little one ; he will carry thee in 
his bosom and lay his everlasting arms under thee 
young head; so don’t ye break down, — he won’t for- ' 
sake thee.” 

There was a pause then, for Rubens’ voice had be- 
come choked. 

“ Read the paper, child,” he said, at length ; and 
Hester opened it. It read thus, — 


HESTER powers'* GIRLHOOD. 


143 


“West Oakland, May 22. 

“ Sir Huston Falkstone requests that Simon Powers 
and daughter will see him to-day at one o’clock. 

“ H. F.” 

It would occupy too much space to give in full the 
feelings of the inmates of that little cottage, as the 
morning wore away, — of the contending emotions in 
the parents’ breasts as they vainly endeavored to unravel 
the mystery. The twelve o’clock dinner remained un- 
tasted, and then the father and daughter, dreading 
they knew not -what, walked away silently and slowly 
toward the “West Oakland” mansion. Its turrets 
glowing in sunlight, and rising gi'andly from out thick 
foliage, did not now attract Hester’s gaze ; she only 
saw her father’s sad face. As they drew near to it, 
many were watching for them ; some with feelings of 
pain, and others with a sort of morbid satisfaction, as 
they whispered to each other, “ Nothing more than I 
expected. I thought she’d turn out so with all her soft 
ways and purty words,” and the like. 

How strange it seemed to Hester not to run up the 
broad flight of granite steps as usual ! Now, even 
when she beheld them, the strength seemed to forsake 
her limbs, and her heart beat with a strange and pain- 
ful oppression. 

Mr. Rubens met them in his kind, polite way ; but 
there was sadness in his smile, a sort of tender pity 
in the way he shook their hands. He led them forth- 
with up to. the librarj^ As he bowed himself out, 
and closed the door. Sir Huston Falkstone turned his 


144 


JUDGE not;'" or^ 

now cold, stern face toward the two who were standing 
side by side near the door. Hester moved slightly for- 
ward as his hard, unfriendly eye met hers. She was 
as colorless as the marble busts beside which she 
stood. With alarm stamped on every feature, she 
looked up into her father’s face. There was no look of 
fear on it, but a proud, almost defiant expression. 

“ Ye had the pleasure to send for us, yer honor,” be- 
gan the old man, in a tone partaking as much of pride 
as did his look. 

Sir Huston wheeled himself round, fixed those same 
cold, forbidding eyes first on one, and then the other, in 
silence, for a few seconds, and then, in a slow, deliber- 
ate tone, said, “ I did ; and it is with regret, for we 
have business of a most unpleasant character to look 
into.” 

“ That is bad,” said Simon, still wearing the same 
undaunted look. 

“ It is,” said Sir Huston, bitterly. “ I could say very 
much which would perhaps be superfluous now, relative 
to the manner in which our confidence, our generosity, 
and kindness have been abused ; of the deep, and subtle 
character of a girl so young as she who now stands be- 
fore me, — she who would fain have eovered her crimes 
by a fair, and outwardly consistent piety. All this, 
however, I must lay aside. To be brief, on Christmas 
morning last, a costly brilliant spray w^as stolen from 
my daughter’s toilet.” 

Hester leaned against her father’s side for support, 
for a faintness had come over her, almost depriving her 
of sight and strength. 


HESTER powers' GIRLHOOD. 


145 


— “ This jewel, however, was restored a week after 
in a rather singular way. You, perhaps, remember the 
circumstance,” the gentleman said, looking at Hester. 

She bowed her head in assent, and he continued ; 
“ Although Miss Falkstone was even then convinced 
of your daughter’s guilt, in compassion for one whom 
she had blindly made her friend and companion, she 
generously kept it a secret. No sooner had the matter 
been apparently forgotten, than a valuable ring, set with 
rubies, next disappeared ; soon after that, a little 
emerald brooch, and, on Saturday morning, a very 
small and costly watch. Now,” said Sir Huston, “ sad 
as it is to us all, we feel that so glaring a crime must 
be dealt with sternly. Justice must take its course.” 

“What! what can you mean?” Hester cried, in a 
wild, unnatural voice. “ Can you mean that I am 
guilty of these crimes ? ” 

“ I do. The proofs of your guilt are indisputable, 
positive I ” 

“Sir I ” interrupted Simon, “do you say that my 
child, — that Hester Powers did steal those things ? ” 

“ I do.” 

“ Mark me, sir, so wicked an acQjusation can’t be 
brought ag’in ’er quietly ! This trembling child be pure 
from hit before ’eaven. Can ye lend yourself to so foul 
a purpose ? Could ye find it in yer ’eart to rob ’er ? ” 
and the old man pointed to the girl, clinging, clinging 
wildly to him, “ O man ! for ye be no more, wid ye 
plunge us, honest folk, into wretchedness and dis- 
grace? Ye can surely not ha’e yer reason. Hester rob 
ye 1 As well might ye accuse a hinfant in hits cradle ! 

10 


146 


JUDGE not;” oil, 

There be law in the land, — ay, thank the Lord ! there 
be law for the poor man as well as the rich, and the one 
that robbed je shall alone answer to that law ! 

“Come, Hester! come, poor child I wid to God ye 
had died before ye e’er seed this cruel hour ! Me gray 
locks be scant, and me furrows deep, but I shall live to 
see ye tread down yer accusers. Come, child ! come ! 
Hester ! don’t ye ’ear yer father call ye? Come, child ! ” 

Stern, cold, unflinching as Sir Huston was, he 
turned his head ; he could not look unmoved 
upon the scene before him. In her despair and 
anguish, the girl had fallen, and was clasping her fa- 
ther’s knees ; her eyes were dry and dilated, and two 
crimson spots burned upon her cheeks. 

“Hester!” The old man spoke once more in a 
deep and suffering tone, as he kneeled by her, and 
tenderly laid her head upon his breast. 

“Hester, dear, ’tis yer father, — yer father, child; 
he’ll protect ye ! ” 

The girl clung to him more tightly, and the old 
man carried her from the room. . 

Many were peeping, but only Old Rubens came for- 
ward to help them in their suflfering. He helped to 
support the poor girl, and brought water, and then 
whispered kind and Christian words into Simon’s 
ear. 

“ Ah ! ” he said, while he wrung his hands, “ there 
is One above that knoweth all things ; man doeth judge 
by outside looks, God by the heart ; and though things 
do look aghn ’er, I wid ha’e me old ’eart pulled out 


HESTER powers" GIRLHOOD. 


147 


afore I wid condemn ’er. God liae mercy on the 
lamb ! » 

It was long before Hester was able to leave the 
house, and when she did, she had but little power to 
walk. As they went slowly homeward, resting every 
little while under the hedges, the father and daughter 
did not tell each other what they were suffering. 

Nancy alone, when she heard the sad tale, indulged 
in words and tears ; she almost raved. She plied 
Hester with useless questions ; but the girl could 
only answer, “Mother, I am not guilty, — I am not 
guilty ! 

Such an affair was not long in reaching the village. 
It flew from house to house, gathering in volume as it 
went. 

“ Ah, ha ! and so hit’s come to this, so soon ! ” 
cried one woman, bursting breathlessly iiTto Grace 
Homes’s cottage. “ I never believed the gal could stand 
bein’ made a lady o’ very long ; but I did believe ’er 
honest ! Better them Powerses ’ad done by ’er as I 
did by my Jemima, — jest a put ’er to the wash-tub, or 
bound ’er hout.” 

“ Why, what is the fuss ? ” inquired Martha Homes. 
And forthwith the tale was told. Grace stood like a 
statue, listening. She remembered how the ladies had 
swept by, in the church-porch, on the day before, and 
other things came flashing across her mind ; but she 
felt that Hester was unjustly accused, and because she 
had said that no good would result from such an in- 
timacy, she did not begin to jeer and condemn 


148 


“ JUDGE NOT ; ” Oi?, 

her friend ; no, Grace’s heart was stirred to its deep- 
est fountains with sorrow and anger. 

“ Hush ! ” she said, as the neighbors talked ; “ don’t 
add to the poor girl’s troubles ; you know, in your 
hearts, that she would have died a thousand deaths 
before she would steal ! ” 

Her feet scarce touched the ground as she flew up 
the hill to Hester’s home ; and she soon discovered that 
the cottage garden was filled with people, some anx- 
ious, others only curious. Boys and girls stretched 
their necks over the wooden railings ; men leaned 
against the trees and talked, while women crowded 
and pushed and chattered, caring little that they were 
crushing under their feet the pretty flowers Hester had 
planted and so dearl}^ loved. Alas ! who could be 
considerate for flowers, then? Such another excite- 
ment had not been in Oakland for many a long year. 

But Grace pushed her way into the porch, and looked 
into the “ best room ; ” for a man with a badge stood 
at the door to keep the crowd out. 

“ Let me in, — please let me in, sir,” jAead Grace*,* 
“ I am Hester’s friend ; we always played together. 
Won’t you let me pass ? ” 

“ Let ’er come in,” said a feeble voice from the far- 
ther end of the room. And then poor old Simon tot- 
tered forward to meet her. 

“ Grace,” he said, “ I thort ye wid come. I was 
sure ye widu’t forsake the poor thing in her trouble.” 
And then his breast heaved and his voice was lost. 

Grace looked round and saw that Hester was ly- 
ing on the settle, with her head resting on her mother’s 


HESTER POWERS* GIRLHOOD. 


149 


lap ; her face was deathly pale, and her eyelids 
closed. 

“ It will kill her ! ” said Grace, starting hack. 
“ Oh, she is dying now ! ” 

But there came a smile to Hester’s lips, and she 
opened her hand to receive her friend’s. 

“ Grace,” she whispered, “ I am not guilty ; I shall 
receive strength from above.” 

Turning to Nancy, Grace asked, “What are those 
two men doing in the other room ? ” 

“Doing!” said Nancy, bitterly, “they be officers, 
child ; they be rummaging the place, — hivery hole and 
corner hin hit, an’ a fine time I shill have o’ gettin the 
place to rights again, — but for all they’ll find they 
might rummage till doomsday.” 

Simon rocked himself back and forth in his chair, 
and kept his eyes fixed anxiously upon his child. 

“ Hester,” said Grace, in a low tone, “ don’t take on 
so ; things will come out right in the end. Your friends 
don’t believe a word of it.” 

But there came a sound from the little room, — Hes- 
ter’s room ; then, a sort of triumphant sound, and the 
words, “ This is plenty to fix her ; ’tis a pity though 
for a gal so likely, but this is one of the things an’ no 
mistake ! ” 

Hester shivered as the remark came to her ear, and 
the burning flush, which had for a while forsaken her 
cheek, suddenly returned. Simon, his wife, and Grace 
hurried to ascertain what had been found, and one of 
the officers held up the emerald brooch ! They had 
found it hidden in an inner pocket of a dress occasion- 


150 


JUDGE not;” or, 

ally worn by Hester, wrapped in articles seldom used 
and by her wholly forgotten. 

“ Tis a sorry thing,” the man said as he looked at 
the blanched faces before him. “ It must be purty ’ard 
for 3mu, old man ; but it seems a wonder to me that you 
didn’t call to mind how ’ard ’tis for older folks to 
stand temptation, and how could she, a sprightly gal 
just going to step up a peg or two, by marrying a well- 
to-do Londoner ? ’Tis a pity, but there’s more blame to 
you, than ’er.” 

“ Don’t stand a preachin’ to us,” called Nancy ; “ I’d 
sooner believe that one of you put the bauble in the 
dress than my gal ; hif ye was sent ’ere to do the biddin’ o’ 
the law, do hit and begone ; and hif ye think that — ” 

“ Hush, wife,” said Simon ; “ the law be a ’ard master, 
and if we be so unfortunate to be under hit, ’tis best to 
be quiet and peaceful ; by prattling so it may only go 
the ’arder wey the poor child.” 

All this time Hester had scarcely moved, yet she 
comprehended all that was going on ; and by and by, 
when the house had been thoroughly searched, and the 
two officers left the cottage, she raised herself up and 
said, “Is it all over now, father?” 'But seeing the 
man still keeping the door, and catching a glimpse of 
the crowd without, some of whom were even looking 
through the window, she fell back apparently more 
prostrated than before. ’‘’‘Father!” 

The word, though faintly spoken, reached the old 
man’s ears. 

“ I’m ’ere close to ye, my child,” he said. 

“Father, pray for me — pray — it seems too much 


HESTER powers' GIRLHOOD. 


151 


to bear. I am innocent, father, — innocent about the 
brooch, too, that they found.” 

“We know hit, child, we hall know it. Take com- 
fort, for the ‘ bruised reed he will not break. Trust in 
the Lord, and he will strengthen thee.’ ” 

Hester slid from the settle, and kneeled between her 
parents, while in faltering voice the old man petitioned 
for his child. 

The day was passing, — four — five o’clock had 
struck, but the officer still kept his post at the door, 
while Simon, his wife, and Grace sat by the accused. 
No one spoke — and the old clock in the corner kept 
up its perpetual tick-tack, tick-tack. 

Suddenly the stillness was broken. The two officers 
who had searched the house again appeared at the cot- 
tage door. 

Hester again shivered, but did not unclose her eyes, 
as she heard their voices and the increased din with- 
out. 

“We are authorized to take the girl with us,” said 
one of the men. 

“ Take ’er ! Take Hester, me only child ! ” shrieked 
the poor old man. “ In God’s name — in mercy leave 
her to us. Men, men, where be yer hearts to rob an 
old man so ? ” 

“ ’Tis a painful duty we have to fulfil,” said oUe of 
the two. “We would gladly let her stay ; but the law 
— the law, old man, we be obliged to conform to hit.” 

“ Father,” Hester said, rising and throwing her arms 
around his neck, “ let them take me, let them take 
me. Be comforted with the assurance of my inno- 


152 


“ JUDGE not; ” Oi2, 


cence. God will shield me in this evil hour.” She 
kissed his trembling lips, and laid her burning cheek 
upon his brow ; then she embraced her mother and 
Grace, whispering, “Pray, pray for me,” — and then 
looking up, she said in a calm voice to the officers, “ I 
am ready.” 

The scene was too much for the poor old man ; he fell 
back senseless as he saw his only child led away 
between the officers. 

The crowd moved back, and a murmur of sorrow and 
pity arose. 

At the corner of the garden the jail van waited to 
receive her, and the men placed her even tenderly into 
it ; for, hard as their hearts were under some circum- 
stances, they were touched now. 

The jail was on the outskirts of the next town, which 
was about three miles distant from the village of Oak- 
land. The shadows were deepening over the land- 
scape as the van halted at the prison-gate. Hester 
heard the clank of keys, and the creaking of the heavy 
iron gate as it opened to admit her ; but, to all out- 
ward appearance, she was dead to every sight, every 
sound. They almost carried her through the gloomy 
passages to the cell, and then she said to the turnkey, 
who stood looking at her, full of compassion, “ Can I 
rest now upon that little bed ? ” 

“ Why, to be sure you can, poor thing. This don’t 
seem a fit place for the like o’ you. What have they 
sent you here for, hey ? ” 

But Hester could not answer, and he continued, “ I’m 
on the rounds three times in every twenty-four hours. 


HESTER ROWERS* GIRLHOOD. 


153 


and don’t be afeared to speak out if you want any- 
thing. I feels bad to see a young thing like you here, 
for I’ve got a gal just your size to horn’.” 

• He made a few more remarks, and then went out, 
turned the key in the lock, and Hester was left alone 
in the prison cell. 


CHAPTER XV. 


Markham’s bride of an hour. 

Ernest Markham had given the last finishing 
touches to a picture, and, with palette still on his thumb, 
walked back to the opposite wall to study it. That’s 
it ! ” he said, with satisfaction ; ‘‘ at last I have pro- 
duced the eflect I desired ; I am glad ! ” 

The noise of the rattling vehicles in the broad thor- 
oughfare without had prevented the artist from hearing a 
heavy shuffling tread upon the stairs. In fact he had 
been so absorbed in his picture that even the sounds 
in the street he had not heard ; he was not aware that 
any one was near him, until Lord Grumby slapped him 
upon the shoulder, exclaiming, “You’ve hit it again, 
my boy ! ” 

“ Pardon me, my lord, but I believe it was 3''Ou who 
dealt the blow,” Markham said, almost springing olf 
the fioor. 

“Ha! ha! ha!” 

“ I didn’t hear a sound,” said Markham ; “ but I’m 
glad to see you out, my lord ; would have been up to 
see you, but have been run down with business.” 

“Yes, yes,” said his lordship, “ I understood it. 

154 


HESTER POWERS GIRLHOOD. 


155 


^Young men should never neglect business to play with 
their friends. Gout plays the mischief with us old ras- 
cals, who have a weakness for good living. I tell you, 
my boj'’, those twinges, ‘ shoots * as they are called, 
will torture a fellow into making promises which are 
forgotten very soon after the pain subsides. ‘ Diet ! 
diet ! ’ why a man might be as well dead, if he can’t 
eat.’ 

“ I think I should be willing to try it,” said Mark- 
ham. 

“ Try it ! bless my soul, man,- 1 should think you 
had tried it, and were sufficiently disgusted, too. But 
you say business is brisk, flourishing, hey ? Glad of it,” 
said the old gentleman casting his e 3 'es around the 
room ; “ enough on hand to keep you busy for a year, 
I should say. Some difference now and ’when you were 
poked away in the top story of the St. George ! Bless 
my soul,” he continued, after a short silence ; “ it makes 
a man quake to think of the mass there is struggling as 
you did in genteel, honest poverty.” 

“ Yes,” said Markham, “ there is plenty of it, and but 
very few are fortunate enough to meet ’with a Grumby 
to give them a pull out of the mud.” 

‘‘ Tut, tut, man ! Grumby may be well enough in his 
odd way, — a gouty old dog to be sure, — can’t live for- 
ever, nor carry his purse with him thi*ough what the 
church people call the ‘ dark valley ; ’ so when he meets 
a struggling, honest boy, battling alone ’without a six- 
pence to call his own, where’s the odds ? and what’s the 
glory if he holds out his hand, and says, ‘ Come, I’ll 
give you a push’? None! none, my boy. It’s only 


156 


JUDGE not;** oe. 


what we all should do, — help our struggling fellow-men. 
There’s comfort in feeling that one’s done a good turn 
— cheer in it ; and beside, I believe my old mother — 
God bless her memory ! — used to tell me, when I 
played by her side, that deeds done like that were •re- 
corded above, and would bring reward hereafter.” 

“They will,” said Markham, looking almost rever- 
entially up into his face. 

“ By the b}^^,” said Lord Grumby, “ when did 3^ou hear 
from below, — ‘West Oakland,’ 1 mean.” 

“ I have not heard for some time,” Markham 
answered with some reluctance. No, he had not heard 
from Hester for nearly two weeks, and, strange to say, 
had scarcely looked at a paper, he had been so busy. 

“ Then,” said Lord Grumby, “ you know nothing of 
the affair that has made, or rather is making, such a 
stir. The papers this morning are full of it.” 

“ Why, no ! What affair?” Markham asked. 

“ From what I can see, it is a pretty bad affair, and 
will go hard with the girl.” 

“ What girl?” Markham began to feel strangely. 

“There’s been a robbery of jewelry at ‘West 
Oakland.’ ” 

“ A robbery ! ” 

“ ! and committed, too, by a girl whom Miss 

Falkstone had made a companion and friend of. This 
girl was to have been married, and was anxious to 
supply herself wdth befitting ornaments for the occa- 
sion, it is thought, undoubtedly thinking that the blame 
would be thrown upon the servants, but — ” he looked 


HESTER powers' GIRLHOOD, 157 

into Markham’s face — “Why! why, Markham, my 
dear fellow, what’s the matter ? ” 

But the young man had no power to answer ; his 
hands rested on his knees, while an ashy pallor came 
over his face. ^ 

•Lord Grumby came to his side. “ My dear fellow,” 
he said, “ upon my honor, I — I — I did not think the 
affair would in any way touch you. Was it to that girl 
that — that — ” 

“If it is Hester Powers,” said Markham, drawing a 
heavy inspiration, “ she was my promised bride.” 

“ Great God ! ” exclaimed Grumb}^ ; “ how could 
you — ” 

“ My lord,” said Markham, “ there is treachery 
there ; that girl could not think a sin, much less act 
one. Steal ! rob her friend ! as soon would an angel 
have descended from the sky for so foul a purpose, as 
for Hester Powers to have conceived of such a deed.” 

“ Alas ! my young friend, the smooth, fair surface 
has sometimes a deep, dark, secret current below. In 
this world outside appearances should go for very 
little.” 

“Where is she?” inquired Markham, having heard 
but little of his friend’s last remarks. 

“ Where? why, in jail, my dear fellow.” 

“In jail!” the young man almost hissed the word. 
“Prison! — they shall rue it who had hearts black 
enough to put her there ! By the heaven above me they 
shall repent so foul a deed ! ” 

“Now, my dear fellow,” said Grumby, “take your 
old friend’s advice, — don’t meddle in the matter. The 


158 


JUDGE not;'* OiJ, 

girl is guilty? beyond a doubt, for some of the stolen 
articles were found among her clothes.” 

“ K all the jewels lost had been found among them, 
it would be no proof of her guilt to me. There is foul 
play, — foul play there ! ” While Markham had been 
speaking he had also been busy changing his coat and 
boots, smoothing his hair, and hurriedly covering up 
some of his work. 

“Why! where • are you going?” inquired his 
lordship, as the artist seized his hat. 

“Going? Pardon me, my lord, — but there is no 
time to talk longer, there are yet ten minutes before 
the down train starts, I can reach it if — if — ” 

“ And are you going, like a madman, to thrust your- 
self in such a disgraceful thing, mix yourself up in — 
in — ? Why, man, consider your reputation.” 

“ Eeputation I ” said Markham, bitterly, “ I’d risk it, 
and my soul, too, upon her innocence. Good-by, m}’’ 
lord I ” The last few words had been spoken out upon 
the landing ; Markham had locked his studio, thrust the 
key into- his pocket, and without another word ran down 
the stairs, leaving Grumby to act and think as he 
chose. He sprang into a cab, which fortunately hap- 
pened to be near the building, and was at the station 
in time to go down in the five-thirty train. Swiftly 
as the train flew on, it was not fast enough for his 
troubled and impatient spirit. The few hours involved 
in reaching “West Oakland” seemed to him like an 
eternity. 

The evening was advanced when he arrived at the 
lodge-gate, and it was some time before he could rouse 


HESTER POWERS GIRLHOOD. 


159 


the old man, for he had fallen asleep over his beer; 
but at length he was awaked, and Markham found him- 
self approaching the mansion. 

With a firm hand he grasped the knob, and the great 
hall-bell sounded through every corner of the building. 
As he stood there impatiently waiting and looking into 
the dimly lighted place, it seemed to wear a solemn, 
gloomy, almost a forbidding air ; scarcely a sound came 
forth from the gorgeous chambers to tell of happy or 
joyous spirits. “ The Lord bless thee, sir,” said Old 
Eubens, as he came forward and recognized the young 
man ; “ have ye come to look after the poor child?” 

“ I have,” said Markham. “ Eubens, tell me what 
you can.” 

“ Ah ! my dear sir, it be a sad thing, — a sad thing, 
and the hull thing be a’ rolled hup in mystery, which 
the Lord above can alone unfold. ’Tis dark, — very dark, 
but he who knoweth all things will some day make 
it clear to our blind eyes. ’Tis my belief that, much as 
it do look agin ’er, she be clear ’o the sin.” 

“ They tell me that she is in prison, Eubens?” 

“ Ah ! yes, she be, sir ; and they say that she be bad 
sick, too, poor lamb ; but taint my place to talk to 
you ’ere, sir. Do 3"e want to see the master? ” 

“ I came here to see him,” Markham said. 

“ Then I’ll say that you are ’ere, sir. The afiair 
have made the place purty gloomy, sir.” Eubens 
walked away ; but returned soon, saying, that Sir Hus- 
ton would see him in the library. 

The gentlemen bowed gravely to each other. Mark- 
ham did not take the seat ofiered to him, but stood with 


160 


JUDGE NOT 


(( 


. » 

) 


OR^ 


one hand resting on the chair-back. The painful sub- 
ject was at once broached ; and after some lengthy 
remarks on the part of Sir Huston, Markham said, — 
“And could you. Sir Huston Falkstone, commit her 
to a jail, with no stronger proof of guilt than merely 
finding one of the jewels ? ’’ 

“What stronger proof is required? The girl’s 
guilt, I regret to say, is positive ; and we have all 
been alike painfull}^ deceived. AVould it not be well 
for you to keep yourself free from such an affair ? I 
should think — ” 

“ Sir Huston ! ” said Markham, looking the gentle- 
man full in the face, “ do you take me for a coward, 
sir, to shrink, skulk away, and leave the poor girl to 
bear this false and wicked accusation alone, merely to 
save my own name from publicity ? No, sir ! If she 
ever needed a friend, it is now. Hester Powers is no 
more capable of the crime for which you have impris- 
oned her, than a babe slumbering on its mother’s 
bosom. Sir Huston, you will repent, ay, bitterly 
repent, your cruel and hasty judgment, by and by.” 

“Repent!” repeated Sir Huston, while a smile of 
contempt curled his lip, “justice is not often repented 
of. The girl is in the hands of the law. I have no 
compassion, no pity, for crime. I would not save my 
own daughter from a dungeon were she a criminal.” 

Markham saw that nothing was to be expected 
there. He bowed himself out from the presence of a 
man who seemed to have changed suddenly, from a 
warm-hearted, generous friend, to a stern and iron- 
hearted enemy. As he strode through the house, the 


HESTER POWERS* GIRLHOOD. 


IGl 


desire seized him to look once again upon the picture 
he had painted of Hester. He turned and had taken 
hut a few steps in the direction of the gallery, when 
Roland stood before him. 

“ Oh, my ! sir,” she began, appljdng the corner of 
her apron to her eye, “ isn’t hit a hawful thing ! To 
think ’ow we was deceived — ” 

“Deceived! What do you mean, woman?” Mark- 
ham almost hissed. “ Beware how you talk. Mark 
me, there are others in this house more guilty than she 
is — ” 

“ Oh, dear, goodness me, sir, — you scare me I ” said 
the woman, sniffling, and shrinking away. 

“ Stop ! ” called Markham. “Is there a light in the 
picture-gallery ? ” 

“No, sir; beside, the — the picture you would be 
wanting to see haint there.” 

“Not there ! What has become of it ? ” 

“No one knows, sir, but the family. The master 
must have removed it himself.” 

Markham scarcely heard the woman out ; he was 
filled with rage, and was glad to escape from the place. 
It was growing late, but he walked rapidly toward the 
village. The moon and stars were shining peacefully 
down upon the pretty landscape, and the lights from 
the cottage windows and open doorways looked as 
bright and as cheerful as ever. It was so familiar, — 
so pleasant to all appearances; and the young man 
could scarcely realize that the sweet girl who had so 
often viewed the same lovely prospect with him was 
now lying in a cell. 

11 


162 


JUDGE N02';” OR, 


His heart beat painfully as he drew near to her home. 
The door was closed, and only a dim light shone from 
the window of the best- room. Markham walked to 
the door, and knocked lightly. There came a low 
voice, bidding him enter ; and, lifting the latch, he took 
a few steps forward into the room. But the picture 
that presented itself checked him suddenly. The 
old man was lying on a little bed at the further end of 
the room ; his head was elevated, and his poor, old, 
haggard face was very pale and thin. The Bible lay 
open upon the bed before him ; and Nancy, almost as 
much changed as her husband, sat beside him, with 
her chin resting on the palm of her hand. The beauti- 
ful order, which had hitherto always exhibited itself 
in and around the cottage, had gone ; and, instead 
of the fragrant bunch of flowers, which usually stood 
upon the little deal table, there was now a withered 
one, — the last that Hester had plucked from the gar- 
den-beds. 

“Come hither, come hither!’’ said the old man, 
extending both of his trembling hands. “I ware 
beginning to think ye ware like the rest, a-going to 
forsake us hin our time of trouble. But, thank the 
Lord, he ha’e ’eard my cry, and brought ye down to ’elp 
’er, — ye will ’elp the child, poor thing ? ” The old 
man took his hand, and looked into his face with a 
sort of child-lilve trust. 

Markham found it difficult to control his emotion ; 
he did so, however, and tried to soothe the old people. 

“Ye don’t believe that she could steal, do you?” 
inquired Nancy. 


HESTER POWERS* GIRLHOOD. 


163 


“ Oh, no ! now I am here, you shall very soon have 
her back with yon. Be comforted, for I will never 
leave you until she is free.” 

The old man rubbed his hands, and laughed. “ The 
Lord bless thee, — the Lord bless thee, m}’" son ! ” he 
said. “ Thee will ha’e the recompense ; a double por- 
tion thee shall ha’e.” 

“But they say she takes it uncommon ’ard,” said 
Nancy, “ and don’t get off ’er bed. Won’t ye go to 
’er?” 

“ Have 3^ou? ” 

“ Nae, nae ! ” interrupted Simon ; “ we haint none 
o’ us seed ’er. I be only now getting up, and Nancy, 
poor soul, went over an’ walked round an’ round the 
place, but they widn’t let ’er hin. The parson be a 
tiyin’ now to get leave for us to see the poor child ; 
’twas he that said she was bad sick.” 

“ Ay,” said Nancy ; “ and they tell me, too, that 
’twill be transportation across the seas for ’er, when 
the child be innocent as a lamb. There be on’y one 
thing a puzzle to me, and that be the findin’ of the 
brooch among ’er things. What do you say to that? ” 

“It is all in great mystery to me,” Markham said. 
“ But don’t be troubled ; if it is in the power of mortal 
man, I will bring her back to her home.” He looked 
at the clock ; it was ten o’clock. “lam going to the 
parsonage, and it may be very late when I return. 
You had both better try to sleep, and leave this painful 
matter to God and to me. Can I stay here? — that is, 
have 3"ou room for me ? ” 

“Why, yes, we have,” said Nancy. “But you 


164 


JUDGE not;” or, 


won’t find things has thej^ was. I haint got any ’eart 
now to fix hup, or make a fuss.” 

“ I understand. I shall give you but little trouble.” 
He bade them good-night, and closed the cottage door 
after him. 

The road to the parsonage was a dismal one at that 
hour, skirting a belt of woods, and it was only now 
and then that the moonlight shone across the road. 
The dense shadows from the woods lay across it black 
and solemnly. He had not gone very far, before he 
discovered that other persons were but a short distance 
in advance of him, and everything being profoundly 
still, except an occasional screech from an owl, he 
could distinctly hear a part of their conversation. 

“ Oh, I know it’s true !” said the first voice, “ for I 
was standing by when the parson told it.” 

“Poor thing,” said the other. “ What a pity it is, 
sure ! Why couldn’t she have waited for her husband 
to buy her such things ? Folks say that he’s able.” 

“ Oh, ’tis a pity ! that it is. She was so purty, and 
so young, and so sprightly, too ; but the thought of 
dying in jail” — 

“ Dying in jail ! ” Markham repeated the words 
over and over with a feeling of horror. He could no 
longer walk, he almost ran, until he caught up with 
them. 

“Am I in the right road to the parsonage?” he 
asked, by way of saying something. 

“ Yes, you’re all right, sir,” said the t^wo strangers, 
almost in a voice, “ we’re going there, ourselves.” 

“ Do you live there?” 


HESTER POWERS GIRLHOOD, 


165 


“ We do, sir.’’ 

“ Then perhaps you can tell me if the rector is at 
home.” 

“ The rector ! the rector ! ” repeated one of the two 
strangers ; “ he don’t live there ! The parson o’ the 
parish church it be that lives hat the parsonage, and 
has to hanybody seein’ ’im hat this queer time o’ 
night is hout of the question, for he’s halways a study- 
in’ and a readin’ and the like in the hevenin’. 

Markham smiled in spite of his troubled feelings, 
thanked them, and hurried on. Ilis loud knocking at 
the hall door of the rector’s house brought, after some 
delay, a very sleepy-looking servant. She opened the 
door about two inches, and asked, in rather an unamia- 
ble way, who was there, and what was wanted. 

“ I wish to speak to Mr. , if only for a moment. 

Take this to him.” He held out a card. 

“ The gentleman be never disturbed in the hevenin’, 
if you please, sir, and the mistress be gone to bed ! ” 
said the servant, without offering to take the card. 

“ Nevertheless,” urged the artist, “ I must see him. 
Take this, — he wdll see me.” 

Reluctantly the woman moved off, looking back as 
she went, to see if she was followed. In about two 
minutes she came over the stairs, saying, “ Laws a 
marcy, sir, I didn’t know you in the dark. You can 
just go straight hup, sir.” 

The rector was an elderly gentleman, tall and 
rather jDortl}^ ; his eyes were clear and dark, and his 
rather long, wavy hair was white as snow. His face 
was one of those benevolent and kind ones which we 


166 


JUDGE not;'’ on, 


sometimes meet with, and which seems to say to every 
one, from the little child to the stern business man, 
“You may confide in and trust me.” He met the 
young man at his study door with extended hand. 

“ I am glad you are here ! ” he said ; “we need you 
in this unhappy affair.” 

Markham was exceedingly tired now, and was glad 
to drop into the chair ofiered by the reverend gentle- 
man. 

“ Let us be candid with each other,” he said ; “ keep 
nothing from me. Is Hester Powers guilty of the 
crimes of which she is charged, in your opinion, or is 
she not?” 

“ The girl is not guilty ! ” the rector said, with 
emphasis ; “ not guilty ! But my dear friend, you have 
asked me to be candid. God forbid that I should give 
you unnecessary pain, but I think you should not be 
kept ignorant of her present situation. Hester Powers 
is ill, — dangerously ill. The blow has fallen too 
heavily upon her, and she is sinking under it.” 

The young man lifted his hands ; his face was very 
pale. 

“ This is frightful ! ” he exclaimed. “ Can nothing 
be done to — to — ” 

“ I fear,” interrupted the rector, “ that nothing can 
now be done in her case ; she will have to await a 
trial. Sir Huston Falkstone was appealed to in time 
to save her, but he refused to listen. His answer was 
to all alike, ‘ Those who ofiend against the law, must 
suffer b}^ the law.’ ” 

“ Ahj ” said Markham, as he sprang to his feet, 


HESTER POWERS* GIRLHOOD. 


167 


“ there will a day come when that iron-hearted man 
will repent bitterly of his cruelt3^” 

It was midnight when Markham left the rector. He 
had promised to return to the cottage. 

At ten o’clock on the next morning the rector’s 
little gig stopped at Simon’s garden-gate. The old 
man, though very feeble, was up and dressed for the 
first time for two weeks ; his old, wrinkled face was 
very sorrowful, and between his trembling hands he 
held one of the rector’s. 

“ Won’t ye take me to see my child? ” he asked, in a 
pleading, pitiful tone. 

“Not to-da^", Simon ! not to-day, my friend ; you are 
scarcely well enough j^et,” the rector said. “ Trust, — 
trust still in your heavenly Father ; don’t be afraid to 
commit her wholly to his care. He doth not willingly 
afflict us, and when he does we must be patient, wait 
^ wait.” 

“ Then 3m will tell her, yes, tell Hester,” he said, 
looking upward, “ tell her that I am pra3dng, — pray- 
ing, 3'es, praying all day long for her. The place be 
gloomy, oh ! so gloomy without her cheeiy voice. 
Will ye tell her that I and her mother will come soon, 
and she shall ha’e the flowers that she loves best, poor 
child?” 

The two gentlemen turned away. Many 3’’ears 
seemed added to the old man’s life since his child had 
been taken from him ; his locks were whiter, and his 
eyes deep-sunken with grief and sickness. Now, how- 
ever, that Markham had come down, a little spark of 
hope had come into his heart. 


168 


'‘’’JUDGE not;” OEj 

Many friends had forsaken the old couple in the day 
of their humiliation and trouble. The Homes people 
and a few others of the neighbors still stood by them, 
and did all they could to comfort and help them. But 
alas ! many — the majority of their old friends — turned 
aside and were ready to condemh and speak reproacliful 
words. Too many were glad to exaggerate and assert 
what they knew to be false. Too many forgot the 
gentle girl as they had known her, — ministering beside 
the sick, reading God’s word to the old and bed- 
ridden, — yes, now all such actions were forgotten. 
The little, generous kindnesses which she had shown 
all around were buried, deep buried, while childish 
troubles were revived, and the poor, imprisoned girl 
had become a reproach and a b3^word in her native 
village. 

But the rector and Markham are waiting now before 
the prison. The great iron gate is at length opened, 
and the two gentlemen are being conducted through 
the gloomy passages. Markham leaned heavily on his 
companion’s arm, and his breath grew short and 
labored as he felt,himself drawing near the narrow cell 
in which lay the unhappy gh*l. 

The turnkey seemed as if he wished to say some- 
thing ; and stepping aside, the rector asked in a low 
tone, “ How does she seem this morning?” 

“ There be no change for the better, yer riverence,” 
said the man, fumbling with the kej^s which hung from 
his girdle. The doctor be with her now, poor thing ; 
hers be a pure case of heart-breaking, it be ! ” 

He led the way to the cell and opened the door. 


HESTER ROWERS^ GIRLHOOD. 


1G9 


Ah! what pen can do justice to the painful scene 
presented I The once lovely, blooming girl la}^, white 
as if the spirit had already flown, upon her little iron 
bed. The physician and nurse were bending over her, 
with sad and hopeless looks. 

Markham groaned in his anguish, and leaned against 
the wall of the cell. 

The rector stepped forward and spoke to the doctor, 
who immediately beckoned to Markham. 

“ Speak to her, call her,” he said ; “ we cannot rouse 
her. This is indeed a sad — sad case.” 

Markham took the little, transparent hand which lay 
upon the coverlid, and called her name ; but, alas ! the 
ears were dull, the once beautiful e3ms heavy and half 
closed. There was no hope I The doctor did not 
speak the cruel words, but all could read it in his 
looks. They who stood around knew that the only 
tribunal before which she would apptar would be the 
one before which we must all stand, when the Judge of 
“quick and dead” will judge us according to the 
deeds done in the body. 

That same afternoon another group kneeled around 
that prison-bed ; and it was a sight sufficiently touch- 
iiiij to have melted the most callous-heart when the 
aged father, bowed and broken-hearted, and the weep- 
ing, stricken mother knelt beside their only child. 

“ Hester — Hester I ” called the old man, “ won’t ye 
open jQv’ and speak to us ? ’Tis yer father that 
be talking to ye. Oh, speak to — speak to us, my 
little one ! ” 

But alas 1 the heart was broken ; its pulsations were 


170 


JUDGE not;'' OiZ, . 

heavy, and in a little while they would cease forever ! 
Slowly, but very surely, the vital forces were jdelding 
to the power of the great destroyer. In the freshness 
and beauty of 3"Outh she had been smitten down, and 
under the iron hand of accusation had been made a 
victim for the tomb ! 

Oh ! 3^e who hold power in 3"our grasp, mete out 
3^our judgment with mercy, and fail not to remember 
that there is One who looketh into the heart, — One who 
judgeth righteousl}^, — even He who shall judge us all 
in the latter day. “ What art thou, O man ! that thou 
shouldest judge thy brother? ” Is it not said, “ Judge 
not, that ye be not judged. For with what judgment 
jQ judge, ye shall be judged ; and with what measure 
3^e mete, it shall be measured to 3’ou again’’ ? “Be 
merciful ! 3"ea, be merciful with thy power.” 

It was evening, and in that little, gloom^^ cell a faint 
light glimmered.* One twinkling star shone down 
through the grated window; it peered down like an 
angel’s eye, as if watching for the pure spirit to as- 
cend. There were four persons gathered around that 
little couch. The parents, the rector, and the affianced 
husband of the dying girl ; and they watched, — watched 
in silent agony, for it seemed as if the dread moment 
had come. But in a moment there came a sound, a 
whispering sound from the bed, — 

“ Father, mother ! ” 

The old man started up. “ She will live ! she will 
live ! ” he cried. “ O my Father ! spare, oh, spare our 
child ! ” He fell upon his knees and buried his face. 


HESTER POWERS^ GIRLHOOD. 


171 


“ Hester/' said Markham, bending low, “ do you 
know me ? ” 

She pressed his hand slightly, and whispered, “ Yes, 
yes ! I am innocent ! I am innocent ! " 

“ We know it, we know it, love.” 

“ I am going, going, Ernest,” she whispered ; “ will 
you be kind to my — my parents ? Raise me up just a 
little, I have prayed for this moment, prayed to be 
able to speak to you once again, to tell you with my 
parting breath that — that I am innocent. Don’t 
grieve for me. I shall be happy, very happjT-. I forgive 
them.” 

For a few moments the rector and Markham walked 
to the door, and conversed in a low tone, while the 
poor girl still spoke to her weeping parents. They 
then came back to the bedside, and Markham, in a 
voice broken by emotion, expressed the desire to be 
united, even in that sad moment, to her whom he had 
chosen for his bride. 

The rector had prepared himself for such an event, 
and forthwith proceeded with the ceremony. As he 
pronounced them man and wife, the girl opened her 
eyes and smiled, and then in an almost inaudible voice 
the closing blessing was spoken. It was over. 

“ My wife ! ” Markham whispered ; but the dull ear 
scarce received the sound. The bride, the young wife 
was no more ! Hester Powers was dead. She was be- 
yond the law ; no earthly tribunal could reach her now. 
Her soul was in the presence of the Judge Eternal. 

A sound was heard near the door of the cell. Look- 


172 JUDGE NOT.'' 

ing np Markham’s eyes fell upon the white, almost terror- 
stricken face of Sir Huston Falkstone. 

“Are you satisfied?” hissed forth the 5^oung hus- 
band in bitter tones as he pointed to the dead girl. 
“ Ah ! the memory of this hour will be a firebrand in 
your soul forever, and may God be as merciful to 3^ou, 
as you were to her.” 

Sir Huston felt that it was no place for him. He 
almost reeled away, for his suffering was intense. 
Ay, angels might have wept over the spectacle, as tie 
stricken and aged parents clung in anguish to thvir 
dead child. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


THE REACTION. 

Dead ! dead ! The word fell awfully, solemnly, up- 
oi]^ the ear. It stirred the deep fountains of every 
heart, — stirred them with sorrow, pity ; pity for the 
bereaved parents, pity for the fair and lovely girl so 
suddenly and so sadly called from their midst. 

It would be difficult, indeed, to describe the emotions 
which rent Sir Huston’s heart as he groped his way 
out of the gloomy prison. The man, proof against 
compassion, deaf to all entreaties, at a time when he 
could, perhaps, have saved her, had not looked unmoved 
upon the dead girl, she whom he had loved with almost 
a father’s tenderness. No ! then, then he would have 
given all his vast possessions could he have brought 
back life, restored the past. He saw her as in her 
beauty she had stood by Isabella’s side. Ah ! he saw 
her, too, dead upon a prison-bed ! Alas ! wishing, 
regretting, what avail is either? The strong hand of 
death will not yield his prey ; the grave will not give 
up its dead. 

Against the great iron gate he leaned ; and the proud, 
strong man wept, wept ! Not in cruelty had he com- 

173 


174 JUDGE not;” or, 

mittecl the girl to a cell within those walls. No ! no ! 
we will do him justice. He believed that he was doing 
right, acting wisely. He as fully believed in Hester’s 
guilt as he believed that God is Creator and Ruler of 
the universe. As firmly did he and his family believe 
that she had stolen the missing jewels as her parents 
and few remaining friends believed in her innocence. 

As Sir Huston Falkstone stood there, in the deep 
shadow of the prison wall, thinking of the dead girl as 
she lay there emaciated but still beautiful, with her 
glossy and abundant hair mottled and lying in disor- 
der over the narrow bed, he believed her guilty still ; 
but he would have given worlds, had he possessed them, 
to have been able to wake np, as it were, from a dream, 
and find the sad events of the past few weeks a delusion, 

Alas ! it was no dream, no delusion ; the girl was dead. 
“ Dead, dead ! ” he repeated, as he slowly turned his steps 
toward “ West Oakland,” his lordly home, with a shud- 
der. How could he tell the sad news ? Since the day 
of Hester’s imprisonment there seemed to be resting 
over the house a mighty pall ; all its brightness, its 
life, seemed dead. 

Isabella missed her friend, the sweet companionship, 
the affection, the girl brought with her ; and, although 
she felt that she had been deceived and robbed, there 
still remained some tenderness in her heart. She loved 
her, and mourned her unhappy fate. 

Early in the evening, as the family were sitting 
quietly brooding over the painful circumstance, the in- 
telligence "was brought to them that Hester was dying. 


HESTER POWERS* GIRLHOOD. 


175 


Sir Huston turned white as marble, though he half- 
believed the statement to be false. 

“Father,” Isabella said, “I must go to her. Don’t 
refuse this appeal. I must see her. Hester dying ! 
No ! no ! she shall not die ! Oh ! wh}^, why did I place 
her there ? ” 

“ Isabella,” said Lady Falkstone, “ be calm, my child ; 
you have nothing to reproach yourself with ; she is suf- 
fering from her own crimes.” 

“ But, mother,” said Isabella, “ she has endured 
enough. Father can — I will purchase her freedom ! 
I’d give my life to save her ! ” 

“ Isabella, you talk rashly. Be calm. She is in the 
hands of the law, and it must take its course. SheSnay 
be suffering, even ill ; but it is only proper that she should 
suffer. Crime, and disgrace, such as hers, under such 
peculiar circumstances, too, are calculated to bring 
suffering to one more hardened than she is. Don’t per- 
mit 3’ourself to be alarmed. I will see myself what 
such a report means.” 

He did go, little dreaming that when he should reach 
the prison cell, he would find that another guest had just 
entered. 

Now, as he drew near to his home, and saw by the 
lights that his wife and daughter were still up, waiting 
to hear the sad tale, his heart sank deep, deep ! He 
dreaded to tell them, — to say to his daughter that her 
friend was no more ; that the soul of the guilty girl 
had fied, gone to receive its sentence from the Judge 
of “ the quick and dead.” 

The moon, emerging from behind a cloud, threw 


176 


JUDGE not;'' ORj 

down a full clear light over the lodge and eastern gate- 
way of the Park, and Sir Huston saw, or thought he 
saw, a form, ghost-like in appearance, leaning against 
one of the pillars. It was half in shadow, half in light, 
and as he stood for a moment to look, he saw the white 
garments fluttering in the night-breeze. Fear was a 
stranger to his breast ; but in his present depressed state 
of mind, and the recollection of the scene he had just 
left, he felt a chill creep through his veins. He turned 
away, then looked again ; but the flgure was still before 
him, now coming toward him with a quick and eager 
step. 

It was Isabella. She had come out alone, in the mid- 
night, to watch for him. 

Far rather would Sir Huston have encountered ghost 
or goblin than his daughter at that moment. He 
feared to tell her the sad truth ; yet to prevaricate, or 
to even insinuate what was not so, he considered more 
disgraceful than a bold lie.^ 

“ Isabella,” he said, extending his arms to meet her, 
‘‘ j^our hair and garments are wet with dew. Why are 
you here ? ” 

But Isabella’s wild and feverish eyes were looking 
into his, and reading, reading the truth. She knew, by 
her father’s looks, by his manner, by his voice, which 
seemed to come up from the very depth of his soul, that 
he had a fearful tale to unfold. 

They stood, the girl’s eyes fixed upon her father’s, 
her lips scarce moving as she breathed forth the words, 
“Father, she is dead !” 


HESTER powers" GIRLHOOD, 


177 


“ Yes,” answered Sir Huston, in a deep and painful 
voice ; “ she is dead ! ” 

One heavy groan, and Isabella had fallen senseless 
upon the damp ground. 

Sir Huston did not wait to think, or call assistance ; 
he lifted her in his arms and bore her to the house. 
Her swoon was a long and heavy one. She had received 
a severe shock, a wound which time alone could heal. 
In her dreams that night she talked only of Hester ; 
ah ! she walked with her, too, as in times past, through 
flowery lanes, by the rippling brooks, where they lis- 
tened to the gray bird’s song. Then the scenes would 
change, and prison, death would tremble on her lips. 
Her father watched beside her all through that weary 
night, and gave the strictest orders that hereafter the 
name of Hester Powers should not be spoken in her 
hearing. 

The next day Isabella was to all appearances bet- 
ter, — better than her parents could have expected, — 
and they hoped that, now she knew the worst, she 
would bear it with the same strength of will that she 
had ever exhibited under trial. 

Isabella was a true Christian, and never failed to 
And peace and strength in the exhaustless fountain of 
a Saviour’s love. She needed strength, comfort, now ; 
that strength which cometh from above. Without it she 
would have sunk under the heavy pressure of grief ; 
the feeling, ever gnawing at her heart, that she had 
done wrong in accusing her friend. She tried very 
hard to check those feelings, and to hide her sorrow 
from her parents, who she knew were watching her 
12 


178 JUDGE not;"* or, 

with tenfold anxiety and tenderness. She kept in her 
own breast the almost frantic desire she had to know 
more about her former friend. But no one spoke her 
name. All day long she listened impatiently for some 
one to speak of her ; but no one did, — no one spoke the 
forbidden name. “ I can no longer bear this sitence,’* 
she said to herself; and, knowing that most likely the 
subject was discussed below stairs, and a favorable 
opportunity presenting itself, she descended to that 
part of the house where Roland and Grieves usually 
sat. Isabella felt sure of gaining some information by 
going where they were ; for, poor women, they belonged 
to that unfortunate class who loved the horrible. They 
read murders with the greatest zest, and fairly grew 
fat upon suicides, railroad accidents, etc. 

They were, therefore, most pleasantly employed on 
this occasion. Roland had been to the village that 
morning, and had gathered all the news relating to 
the sad affair that could be had, and, aided by a strong 
imagi ation, she had enough to relate of a sufficiently 
exciting character : — “ the marriage in the cell,” “ the 
dying giiTs full confession,” “ the attempted suicide of 
the young husband,” and, lastly, that “ the criminal had 
declared before all present that she would haunt the 
‘ West Oakland’ house forever, and show a light over 
her own grave every night as the bell from the old 
church tower should strike twelve.” 

In all such stuff Isabella felt no interest, and with 
a weary, sickening feeling, she was about to turn away, 
when Grieves asked when the funeral would take 
place. 


HESTER powers" GIRLHOOD, 


179 


“ Why, this evening, near sundown,” answered Ro- 
land ; “ but I tell you I wouldn’t go to hit for the ’ole 
of Hengland.” 

“ Near sundown,” Isabella said, as she returned to 
the parlor. She seemed exceedingly calm, and her 
parents had no idea that she knew what they had so 
desired to keep from her. They felt glad that she had 
not asked any questions, and were satisfied that she 
had no wish to know more of the sad occurrence. The 
wind was unfavorable for the toll of the bell to reach 

West Oakland,” — so they thought. 

But Miss Falkstone had gained all the information* 
she desired, and at a suitable time she went up into 
one of the upper chambers in the western wing of the 
building. She stationed herself in the recess of the 
window, that, if possible, she might catch the first sound 
of the bell. It came at length, — that dull and solemn 
knell, faintly at first, but her strained ear caught it. 
Again and again it came, curdling her blood, and be- 
numbing every feeling. She clung to the heavy dra- 
pery for support, while she prayed for strength, and 
determined to go forth to see her, whom she had so 
tenderly loved, committed to the grave. 

“No one will know me. I must be among those 
who may follow her to her last resting-place. Dear 
Hester ! you wronged me, but, oh ! I have long since 
forgiven you, and repented my own course in the mat- 
ter. You sinned, poor girl ! but oh ! I know that He, 
who was himself tempted — he, who died for our sins, 
hath remembered mercy. O Hester ! Hester ! she 
said, her sad face looking upward, “ would that I could 


180 


“ JUDGE not; ” OiZ, 


mourn for you as I would for a sister ! Oh that the 
blot, the stain could be removed from 3"Our memory !” 

But louder, louder came the knell, and Isabella went 
quickly over the . stairs. Procuring a cloak and hood 
belonging to Poland, she left the house through a nar- 
*row side passage, which was rarel}^ used, and followed 
a path through the thick shrubbeiy. By this way she 
and Hester had often gone to the village, for it was the 
shortest way of getting there. At that time of the 
evening there was no danger of discovery, for the gar- 
deners had finished their da^^’s work, and the shrubs 
were high. Excitement gave her strength, and she 
ran until her home was lost in the distance behind, and 
the solemn old church-tower rose in full .view before 
her. Dismally the knell tolled forth its sad tale, as the 
jmung girl stepped over the stile into the gravejmrd. 
One portion of it was alread}'" in deep shadow ; and 
sadl}’" the trailing willows waved in the evening breeze, 
and there seemed to come a moan out upon the air, as 
the wind swept through the trees. But the old gray 
steeple, — 3ms, that great, iv3’-grown tower, speaking 
forth its voice of warning to the living, — repeating the 
words “Prepare! prepare!” — its top was crowned 
with glowing golden lights, — its summit was bathed in 
gloiy, and the tops of the distant woods ; and across 
the valle3^s, too, there was brightness and beaut3^, as 
the sun went SI0WI3" down. 

But now Isabella sees from her secluded and shadowy 
stand a long train approaching ; that they were com- 
ing, — coming with slow, sad step and bowed heads. 

Ah ! the village belle was coming, too, — coming to 


HESTER POWERS GIRLHOOD. 


181 


be laid to rest in the narrow bed, where, by and by, 
YTQi all must sleep. Yes, a solemn train it is that is 
coming up through the dark avenue. Where Hester’s 
feet had so often trod, she is being borne now, followed 
by the broken-hearted and sorrowing, — the aged, white- 
haired father, and the tender mother, they who had so 
loved their beautiful child, — the young husband, and 
Grace, her faithful friend. They are all there, — all 
coming. 

In her anguish and despair Isabella mingles with the 
throng. She stands near the open grave, and sees 
the coffin with the wreath of half-blown buds lowered ; 
she hears the stifled sobs, and the tremulous, solemn 
voice of the rector, as he commenced the beautiful and 
impressive church-service at the grave, — 

“ Man that is born of a woman hath but a short 
time to live, and is full of misery. He cometh' up, 
and is cut down like a flower ; he fleeth as it were a 
shadow, and never continueth in one stay. 

“ In the midst of life we are in death. Of whom may 
we seek for succor, but of thee, O Lord, who for our 
sins art justly displeased. 

“Yet, GLord God, most holy, O Lord most mighty, O 
holy and most merciful Saviour, deliver us not into 
the bitter pains of eternal death. 

“ Thou knowest, Lord, the secrets of our hearts : shut 
not thy merciful ears to our prayers ; but spare us. 
Lord most holy, O God most mighty, O holy and mer- 
ciful Saviour, thou most worthy Judge eternal, suffer 
us not, at our last hour, for any pains of death to fall 
from thee.” 


182 


“ JUDGE not; ” OiJ, 

“Forasmucli as it hath pleased Almighty God, in 
his wise Providence, to take out of this world the soul 
of our deceased sister, we therefore commit her body 
to the ground ; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to 
dust ; looking for the general resurrection in the last 
day, and the life of the world to come, through our 
Lord Jesus Christ ; at w^hose second coming in glorious 
majesty to judge the world, the earth and the sea. 
shall give up their dead ; and the corruptible bodies of 
those who sleep in him shall be changed, and made like 
unto his own glorious body ; according to the mighty 
working whereby he is able to subdue all things unto 
himself.” 

“ I heard a voice from heaven, saying unto me. Write, 
from henceforth blessed are the dead who die in the 
Lord ; even so saith the Spirit : for they rest from 
their labors.” 

As the last sentence of “the Lord’s Prayer” fell on 
the ears of that spellbound group of mourners, Isa- 
bella could no longer suppress her agony ; a cry of 
heart-rending anguish, long pent up, burst from her lips, 
which startled and appalled every one. With an un- 
natural strength she pushed her way out from amongst 
them and fled. The sun now sinking in the west shone 
forth, lighting up with holy beauty the rector’s face, 
as with reverence it looked upward as he pro- 
nounced the solemn benediction. Yes ! that last stream 
of sunlight rested alike upon mourner and friend, upon 
those who had condemned and those who had acquitted 
the fair girl, upon the accuser and upon the grave 
of the accused ; and then, as the deeper shadows 


HESTER POWERS GIRLHOOD. 


183 


gathered, and the crimson streaks faded from out the 
sky, silently and reverentially each one turned away, 
and Hester was left alone, — alone with the angels. 
They will watch over her while she sleeps. Asleep ! 
yes, our village belle’s only sleeping, — 


“ Only waiting till the angels 
Open wide the mystic gate ; 

Then, from out the gathering darkness, 
Holy, deathless stars shall rise. 

By whose light her soul shall gladly 
Tread the pathway to the skies.” 


CHAPTER XVn. 


Isabella’s mourning. 

There was consternation at “ West Oakland.” Isa- 
bella was not to be found. What the feelings of the 
master and mistress were then, we dare not say. But 
as Sir Huston leaned against the heavy carved panel of 
the door, he looked like one preparing himself to meet 
some fearful trial. Those who saw him read what was 
going on in his breast, as it heaved with the excess of 
emotion. 

It was dark. The twilight had merged into the deep- 
er shades of night, and but few stars shone forth be- 
tween the gathering clouds. “ She has gone to the 
grave,” he said ; and, taking a couple of men with him, 
they went forth. Gladly would Sir Huston have 
avoided looking tow'ard the church-yard then, for he felt 
now, when it was too late, that he had been too severe ; 
that, had he acted differently, Hester would have lived, 
and this great sorrow, which was crushing many a heart, 
would have been spared them. 

They walked on, each one thinking his own thoughts. 
They entered the solemn yard, but all was quiet there ; 
no sound but the sighing winds, — no voice but that 

184 


HESTER powers" GIRLHOOD. 


185 


which came, more powerfully than living words, from 
the silent resting-places of the dead. They sought the 
little gi’ave, — the one just made; but Isabella Falk- 
stone was not there. No ! from the yawning grave she 
had fled with a wail of anguish. 

But a sound had caught Sir Huston’s ear, just the 
faintest sound, as it passed by on the night air. 
“ Hark ! ” he said ; “ what was it? ” 

“ Only the moan of the wind in the trees, sir.” 

“ No ! no ! ” 

The father’s heart, the father’s ear, was keener than 
his servant’s. There was something familiar in the low, 
moaning sound. It came again, and then he ran, — 
ran in the direction whence it came. 

Isabella’s strength had, not supported her very far ; 
she had fallen exhausted, and was now resting her 
weary head upon a little grass-grown mound. Her 
white garments were wet with the dews of the night, 
and by her side lay the cloak and hood belonging to 
her maid. 

“Isabella!” exclaimed her father, as he beheld 
her. 

“Yes, that is my name,” the girl answered, feebly. 
“ Will you take me to my home, — for I am very, very 
cold?” 

“ My poor child I ” 

Her father lifted her in his arms, as if she had been a 
little child, and pressed her tenderly to his aching 
breast. They wrapped her in the cloak, and by turns 
the master and servants carried her home. Before 
long, fever raged in her veins ; and for many, many 


186 


JUDGE not;^* os, 

days — nay, weeks — her life hung upon a very slender 
thread. In her delirium, Hester was ever by her ; and 
when reason returned, and the mind was capable of 
thought, Hester still filled her fancies. 

• “ She must be taken away,” said the physician. 

“ Change of scenery will alone restore her.” 

And Sir Huston and Lady Falkstone gladly acceded 
to a plan which would move them, -at least for a 
while, from the painful atmosphere surrounding “West 
Oakland.” Even Isabella breathed more comfortably 
as she contemplated a change. Now, there were too 
many things around her which reminded her of her lost 
friend. She was perpetually haunted by the sad events 
of the last few weeks, and very frequently by the 
gnawings of remorse for having been the chief instru- 
ment in bringing Hester to her sad end. Had she 
maintained silence, the stolen jewels, like the brilliant 
spray, might have been brought back. But, alas ! she 
could not bring back the past. 

In spite of Sir Huston’s commands relative to Hes- 
ter’s name, the servants would talk, and many a thing 
came to Isabella’s ear when those who spoke believed 
her to be asleep. She had heard it said that the girl 
had confessed to having taken many more articles than 
were then missed ; and, on the contrary, that she had 
asserted her innocence even with her latest breath. 
To satisfy herself of the truth, Isabella expressed a 
wish to see the rector of the parish before leaving her 
home, but which her parents opposed, believing that 
what he would say would only reopen the wound and 
bring suffering rather than peace. 


HESTER POWERS GIRLHOOD, 


187 


“ No, no ! ” Isabella said ; “ it will benefit me. If I 
go away from here without knowing what I so much 
desire to, I shall only carry away in my heart a worm, 

— a wound which will, in the end, destroy me. He 
who can alone penetrate to the secrets of our hearts j 

— he knoweth that I acted my part from a pure sense 
of justice, of right. I loved her, ah ! too much, — 
even as my sister ; but I believed that I should be, 
in the sight of God, equally guilty with her by keep- 
ing her crime a secret.” 

“Isabella,” said Lady Falkstone, “have we not all 
suffered enough by her wickedness ? Can you not put 
it from you ? Of what use are all these regrets and re- 
pinings ? The girl we took to our hearts, and she wan- 
tonly abused our trust, robbed us. You acted wise- 
ly, and have nothing to accuse yourself of. Rise above 
this nonsense ! Would you, for such as her, destroy 
your life and make your parents childless ? Remember 
that on you rests the hope of a noble house. Ask to 
know nothing more about the girl than you already 
know ; and, for your parents’ sakes, blot from your 
heart, your memory, every trace, every vestige of a 
character so worthless.” 

But Isabella could not ; she could not forget Hes- 
ter, nor feel embittered, even now, against the mem- 
ory of her unfortunate friend. She was not satisfied, 
and a^ain she urged that she might have an interview 
with her rector. 

This time her request was granted, and Sir Huston 
himself went over to the parsonage, in order to have a 
conversation with the rector first. 


188 


JUDGE not;'* ORf 

Isabella’s illness had made a fearful change in her 
appearance. The delicate roundness of her face had 
gone ; her cheeks were hollow, and, instead of the hap- 
py brightness so characteristic of her face, there was a 
painful, mournful eagerness on every feature as the 
rector entered. 

He would have introduced other subjects, — spoken 
of less painful things, — but Isabella seemed to have 
but one thought ; and, regardless of all her parents’ 
cautions and entreaties, she asked, almost breathless- 
ly, to be told without reserve all that she should ask. 

“ Remember,” she said, looking up into the good 
man’s face, “ I have a right to know ; she was my 
friend, and I am responsible for her imprisonment and 
— and death.” 

“ The whole thing is wrapped in mystery, my dear 
young lady.” 

“ Yes ; do you think she was guilty? ” 

“ I do not," the rector said ; “ but let me say to yon, 
Miss Falkstone, that the part you acted in the sad 
drama you did with pure motives. Leave it now in 
the hands of God ; he will make the dark things plain 
by and by, and bring to light that which is now hidden 
from our eyes. No grief will bring her back. No 
earthly power can restore her to her bereaved friends. 
The sudden removal of our young friend, one who was 
so much esteemed in her native village, has been a 
blow to many hearts. But rest assured that, could we 
see her as she now is, happy in an eternal rest, we 
should be more willing to say, ‘ Thy will be done.’ 
There are now no more sorrows for her to encounter ; 


HESTER POWERS* GIRLHOOD, 


189 


she has left the river of death behind, and is in 
the full enjoyment of a bliss eternal.” 

In a few more days the “West Oakland” mansion 
was left in the keeping of servants, and the Falkstone 
family were on their way to foreign lands. 

Roland, however, had declined to accompany her 
young lady, being fearful of trusting her valuable life 
among such heathens as she had heard dwelt on the 
continent. 

“ Eat frogs dressed in wine, and drink gin in the 
breakfast tea? No, not she ! ” 

The thought was enough for Roland ; so on that, she 
resigned her situation with many tears and very many 
sniffles. She told Miss Falkstone that it was her inten- 
tion to get a home of her own. 

“ In this way, if you please, my young lady. I 
means to hopen a kind o’ lodging-house hup in London. 
It won’t be hon hanj^ grandee style, miss, honly small 
hat the beginning.” 

She waited some time for some comments upon her 
information, but, finding that Miss Falkstone remained 
silent, she began again with an outburst of feeling, — 

“ This awful thing have sort of broke me hup, ma’am, 
and showed me the uncertainty of hev’rything in this 
trifiing world ; and beside, ma’am, tis dreadful the risk 
a body’s character runs a livin’ hout.” 

“ I hope you will do well,” Isabella said, coldly. 
She had become disgusted with the woman, of late, and 
was more glad than sorry to part with her. 

Miss Falkstoiie’s willingness to let her go was not 


190 JUDGE not;*' ORy 

at all palatable to Roland. She desired to cause a scene, 
to be begged to remain, and to have her young lady 
quite distressed to part with her valuable services ; 
but Isabella quietly heard her out, and wished her well. 
Still sniffling, she courtesied herself out from the young 
lady’s presence ; her heart was running over with 
wrath. “ After all she had done, to let her go so ! It 
was ungrateful ! ” She declared the whole world in a 
state of corruption exceeding that of the cities of 
the plain,” and not a fit place for a good, solid Chris- 
tian like herself to remain in. She packed with ner.. 
vous haste, scarce speaking a civil word even to “ dear 
Grieves ! ” As for Mr. Rubens, she avoided him alto- 
gether, declaring that he had made mischief. All 
things being ready, she followed her trunk and band- 
boxes into the donkey cart which was ready to take 
her to the stage. 

And now, dear reader, we will return to the little 
cottage on the hill. Joy had been turned to mourning 
there ! Since the evening of the funeral, few had been 
seen by the parents. The kind, good rector and the 
Holmes family were the only persons they wished to 
see. Markham was still there, for Simon could not 
let him go away quite yet ; beside, it afforded him 
some consolation to be able to visit, in the quiet 
of the evening, the grave of his young wife, whose 
memory was to him pure and stainless. The severe 
trial through which he had passed had wrought its 
sad effects on him, too, and but for the old people, 
whom she in her last moments had committed to his 
care, he would have given up, and perhaps returned to 


HESTER POWERS GIRLHOOD. 


191 


his old, unhappy state. But for their sakes he bore 
the trial bravely. 

It was sad, indeed, to see the old man so like a little 
child now, for his mind had been shattered by the 
blow. He watched Markham all day long, and would 
sometimes speak of Hester as though she still lived in 
the bright anticipation of a happy future. Then he 
would remember his sorrow, and say, pleadingly, “Ye 
won’t leave me too, will ye? ” 

“ I must go for a little while,” Markham said, one 
morning ; “just to get a home where we may live always 
together ; and w’hile I am away you must both try to get 
better, and think of the time when the world will be 
told that Hester Powers was unjustly accused ; that 
she did not rob her friend.” 

“ Ay ! ay ! will that day ever come?” the old man 
asked with a childish laugh. 

“ Ah ! ” said the young man, bitterly, “ it will come, 
— that it will, — and then the castle as well as the cot- 
tage will have its day of gloom ! ” 

The old man rubbed his hands, and exclaimed, 
“The Powers folks be an ’onest race and the poor 
lamb be only sacrificed for naught. I’ll live ; yes, 
Nancy and me will see the day when our little one’s 
* name will wear no spot ! ” 

The young artist was now obliged to return to Lon- 
don. Business was calling loudly for him, and Lord 
Grumby was impatient for his return. Being then laid 
up with another attack of gout, he wrote to Markham 
to come directly to his residence as soon as he arrived 
in the city. 


192 


JUDGE not;” OiJ, 


Although uot in a very suitable frame of mind 
for visiting any one, Markham acceded to the re- 
quest ; for he needed advice, his funds in hand 
having run low, and he felt the necessity of having 
the two old people established in a home before he 
could apply himself again to his profession. They 
were now totally dependent on him, for the active 
old man had by his sorrow been reduced to helpless- 
ness. These thoughts nerved him to meet his old 
friend and patron, and enabled him to explain his 
difficulties at once. 

Lord Grumby listened to him quietly ; that is, as 
quietly as the “infernal twinges” in his feet would 
permit him. Then the old fellow leaned forward, 
smoothed out a wrinkle or two in the cushion on 
which his bandaged feet lay, pulled at the ruffie of his 
shirt, and gave his crimson necktie a jerk ; then look- 
ing up, he bellowed out, — 

“ Markham, my dear fellow, yoffire a /oo?, — a most 
confounded fool! For who but a jackass would tackle 
on his back a couple of old people, burdened with in- 
firmities and oppressed with' their daughter’s shame ? 
Listen to me, man : you of course, as a sentimental 
lover, declare the girl to be innocent of the crime brought 
against her ; that she was not capable of stealing. All 
very good, and testifies to the goodness and gener- 
osity of your nature. But the saying is, ‘Love is 
blind ; ’ and, hang me, if there ever was blindness and 
infatuation like 3'Ours ! ’Tis madness, my dear fellow ! 
Here you are, just free, or hardly so, from the very 
depth of want, and just beginning to see your way 


HESTER POWERS GIRLHOOD, 


193 


clear to maldng a successful hit — a name — a fortune, 
sir ; and 3"0u go and deliberately hang around your 
neck a millstone that will keep 3^ou forever down to 
drowning mark. Tut ! tut ! fellow ! Off with you to 
3'Our neglected studio. Forget the troubles yonder. 
Send a guinea, when you can, to the old folks, and 
rest satisfied that there’s as good fish in the sea as 
ever the fishermen have yet hauled ! ” 

“My lord!” said the young man, “I should be 
unworthy the name of man could I forget or neglect 
for an hour those who are so dependent upon me in 
their w^eakness and distress. But for them I could 
not so soon return to my work ; their wants stimulate 
me to exertion, and so long as I live, and honorably 
fulfil my vow pledged to her as her pure spirit passed 
awa^", so long shall I be blessed. I owe you very much, 
my lord, and would not willingly make a breach.” 

“Breach! — hang this infernal gout! — Breach, I 
say. Who’s talking of making a breach? Look 
3^ou ! I’m a contradictory old dog at the best of 
times. Had you, like a tame booby, been afraid to 
speak out, or quietly yielded to my notions, like 
some confounded puppies who would do anything so 
they could hang on to the coat-tails of a lord, why, 
in less than two hours I’d been calling you a coward, 
and I don’t know what. It’s human nature, my dear 
fellow, — human nature, I say. Now, though I still 
call you a fool, I respect your ideas of right, and your 
manliness. I’ll think the matter over a bit. You say 
the woman is still active, — a good house-keeper , hey ? ” 
“ Most excellent, my lord.” 

13 


194 JUDGE not;*’ oe, 

“ Well, since there’s no help for it, we may as well 
come out plain, for I know of no other house at pres- 
ent ; there’s that miserable old place of mine out on 
the King’s Court Road, just going to the dogs ; if you 
care to look after it, and think you could still hold on 
to your present place of business, why. I’ll make it 
over to you ; it’s been a bother to me long enough ! ” 

“ I will rent it, my lord ! ” 

“ Rent it ! — confound this gout ! — rent it, indeed ! 
If you want the confounded hole, take it, and hold 
your tongue ! ” 

The place to which his lordship had reference was 
built in cottage style ; it was very old, and had fallen 
much into decay, was far out on the outskirts of the 
city, and was surrounded by a high stone wall. 
Gloomy as it appeared to Markham as he approached 
it, he was not slow to think of the advantages it had 
over the cramped-up, gloomy little houses in the 
city, in the midst of dust and smoke and bustle, which 
would have poorly suited the old pair. This place was 
retired, more healthy, and had a large garden, and, 
though it was now one mass of weeds and thistles, 
Markham already saw that it would prove a pastime 
and a blessing to the old man. It had once been quite 
a pretty place, and quite a number of the fruit-trees 
were still in a flourishing condition ; some vines, too, 
were clinging to the mouldering walls. 

The young man’s spirits began to freshen as he 
walked around, and looked into the passage or hall 
which ran through the house ; he looked into the rooms 
on either side ; they were comfortable and very pleasant. 


HESTER powers' GIRLHOOD, 


195 


The tears started to his eyes as the thought flashed 
across his mind that she, whose presence would have 
thrown a sweet charm around this forsaken place, had 
passed away.. 

Lord Grumby was delighted that the old place suited 
his young friend so well, and, as soon as his gout would 
permit him, he drove out to take a look at the “ con- 
founded hole.’’ 

“ Well, now,” said he, “ it wants this, — to be swept 
away from oflf the earth, every stick and stone of it, 
and a new, neat place reared in its stead.” 

“Not quite that, my lord; it needs, some repairs, 
’tis true ” — 

‘ ‘ A few rejpairs I ” echoed the old gentleman. ‘ ‘ Well, 
do what you choose. Here’s a check for fifty pounds ; 
make it go as far as you can ! ” 

Markham was not slothful in business ; men were set 
to work about the repairs, and in a little while Lord 
Grumby was himself surprised at the comfortable 
appearance of the cottage ; and, by the way, put many 
a comfort into it that else would not have found its 
way there ; and, when all was ready and cleaned, the 
generous-hearted old fellow placed in Markham’s hands 
a deed which made it his forever. 

“ Don’t thank me,” he said ; “ it is not worth it. Be 
as comfortable and happy as you can. You are a good 
fellow and an honor to your profession.” 

Markham once more started for the village of Oak- 
land. He found the old people no more reconciled to 
their loss than when he left them ; indeed, the old man 
seemed to mourn more painfully. It was two or three 


196 


“ JUDGE not; ” OR, 


days before things were ready, — the household furni- 
ture sent off ; Igat they started at length — the old man 
and his wife — to their new home, leaving behind them 
the old cot with its vines and flowers, the village, and 
friends, and the grave of their only child ; but it was 
over by and by, — each sad little episode came in its 
turn, and then mingled with the past, and our friends 
were seated in the cars. 

The two old people had never travelled by railroad 
before, and of course they felt often uneasy as they 
flew onward ; they were alarmed and interested by turns. 
Simon held on tightly to the back of his seat, and 
looked around full of fear when the whistle blew. 
His feeble mind wandered sometimes, and he would 
look around and say with a sort of chuckle, — 

“ Hester, hold on tight, child, hold on ! ” 

He took no notice of anything, apparentlj", as they 
rode through the city streets, but looked vacantly foi'th ; 
but when the cab stopped outside of their new home, 
he looked up into the young man’s face and said, — 

“ Did they bring ’er ’ere ? ” 

This is our home,” Markham said, as he led him 
through the garden, which was still in the condition he 
had first found it, — all overgrown with tall weeds, 
briers, and thistles. 

“ Bless me ! bless me ! ” exclaimed the old man ; 
“this be dreadful! I’ll be obliged to get to work, 
Nancy.” 

“ Yes,” she answered ; “ your tools, rakes and spades, 
and the like, be here afore us, I reckon.” 


HESTER ROWERS* GIRLHOOD. 


197 


“It do look arter the order o’ the sluggard’s 
gee’ern, this,” said the old man ; “ I must get to work ! ” 

“ Oh, 3'es,” Markham said, cheerfully ; “ 3^011 will find 
plenty to do ; these trees, you see, will need attention 
next season.” As he spoke, he saw the old man’s face 
brigliten, and he felt an inward joy that this home had 
been prepared for them. 

Nancy said very little ; she had walked on to the 
front door, and was looking into the cool hall, with its 
clean blue stone floor ; into the best room or parlor, 
where the great old clock — their own eight-day — was 
in the corner, ticking forth the seconds ; the little 
deal table, too, on which stood a glass of fresh flowers. 
Alas ! what were those familiar things to her now ? 
They onl3^ reminded her of one departed. But the 
da3"S passed on, each bringing its own cares, and they 
found in occupation a solace ; at least the keenness of 
their soitow began to soften. 

“ Labor is rest from the sorrows that greet us, 

Rest from all petty vexations that greet us, 

Rest from sin-promptings that ever entreat us, 

Rest from world-sirens that lure us to ill.” 

And now for a little while we will leave our old 
friends in their comfortable home, in the kind care of 
their son-in-law, — leave them still waiting, still hoping 
for a time when their daughter’s name shall stand 
out in all its purity and innocence before those who 
accused her. ' 

“ Touch them gently, time I 

Let them glide down thy stream 
Peacefully, — as we sometimes glide 
Through a quiet dream.” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

Isabella’s retben. 

“ Time, as he passes us, has a dove’s wings, 

Unsoiled, and swift, and of a silken sound.’* 

Time moves on quietly, healing our griefs, reconcil- 
ing us to the bereavements and trials of life, bidding 
us look foricard, never backward. 

Thus we find Isabella Falkstone, after two years’ ab- 
sence from “West Oakland.” The wound which she had 
carried away with her, if not entirely healed, was so 
carefully covered up that no trace of it was discernible 
in her daily life. Hester’s name was never spoken, — 
perhaps altogether forgotten. Under the infiuences of 
change, of gay scenes and pleasures, Isabella had re- 
gained both health and spirits, and had returned with 
her parents to London in time to enjoy a little of its 
gayety before the season closed. 

Sir Huston and his lady rejoiced to hear Isabella 
speak of returning to “West Oakland,” as if the painful 
occurrence which had taken her from it had never been. 
The young lady had lost none of her love for country 
life, and she even greV animated as she described the 
charms of her home to the young friends whom she had 
invited to accompany her to it. 


19S 


HESTER POWERS^ GIRLHOOD. 


199 


Sir Huston had heard from Lord Grumby, whom 
he had seen since his arrival in town, that Markham 
was prospering in his profession, and that he with the 
old people, whom he (Grumby) had never seen, still 
believed in Hester’s innocence. 

Sir Huston only smiled, and gladly changed the con- 
versation by inviting the old gouty gentleman to spend 
the summer with them at “ West Oakland.” 

“ Ay, I believe I will,” he said ; “ haven’t been in the 
country much for years. When do you go down? ” 

“ In May,” said Sir Huston. “ To my mind our Eng- 
lish springs are charming.” 

Delicious ! ” exclaimed Grumby, as he walked up 
and down the drawing-room with thumbs stuck in 
his waistcoat pockets. “ Delicious, sir ! They renew 
one’s youth ; in fact, make us old dogs wish that a 
longer lease than threescore had been allowed us, hey? 
Ha, ha, ha ! ” 

“ Life is too short,” said Sir Huston, thoughtfully. 

“ Yes,” answered Lord Grumby ; “ but, after all, we 
bachelors keep young a good while. Now, except for 
this perplexing gout. I’m as young as I was five-and- 
twenty years ago. I tell you, sir, the blood is yet hot 
in my veins, and sport, sir, — sport, I say, — hasn’t 
lost a charm for Old Grumby.” 

“ That is good news,” said Sir Huston ; “ for, the 
truth is, we mean to have a gay summer and take 
down with us a lively party. That unfortunate affair 
threw a gloom over the place for a while, and at one 
time I was afraid that it would be perhaps many years be- 
fore Miss Falkstone would be able to return there ; but, as 


200 


JUDGE NOT. 


a 


. ff 
j 


OEf 


far as we can judge, she has forgotten it, and we hope 
that hereafter the ancient halls of ‘ Wi^st Oakland’ will 
exhibit more ga3mty and mirth than ever before, even 
in the days of its boasted greatness.” 

Again the spring began to open. Flowers and birds 
came with perfume and song, and once more “ West 
Oakland ” was astir. The trees were putting forth their 
tender leaves, and the squirrels and the little lambs 
and the pretty fawns frolicked in the glittering sun- 
shine. 

To some in the village of Oakland the news of the 
Falkstones’ return to their seat was exceedingly pleas- 
ant news. They brought with them a sort of commo- 
tion. Many, long out of work, would find emplo3"ment 
when they were back ; beside, the^' had been very good 
to the poor ; and then to the plain country folks it was al- 
wa^^s pleasant to see finely dressed ladies ; and although 
some shook their heads and said, “ It had been a bad 
da}^ for the Powers folks when they had first come,” 
3mt many more rejoiced in anticipation of good beef 
soup and other kindnesses shown fhem by the Falk- 
stones in the bleak days of winter. 

Two years had rolled round since Hester had been 
laid in her grave ; yet none in the village had forgotten 
her. How could they forget her?. The old cottage on 
the hill was always telling the sad tale. It had stood 
empt}^ ever since, and the storms of winter had carried 
away some of its thatched roof ; the porch was broken, 
and the once prettily trained vines hung over the door- 
way in heavy, tangled masses ; and on the box-bordered 


HESTER POWERS GIRLHOOD. 


201 


beds, where the sweet flowers grew, were rank weeds 
now. Ah ! it was no wonder that some felt badly to 
hear that the “ West Oakland ” family were coming back. 
Grace, most of all, regretted it. 

She was no longer a milliner’s apprentice ; she had 
learned the trade well, and had “ set up for herself.” 
The best room in her mother’s cottage had been turned 
into a little shop, and the window was always prettily 
decorated with tastefully trimmed caps and bonnets. 
She had been very successful, too, and was able to 
help her parents provide for the smaller members of 
the family, little brothers and sisters whose wants 
were many. She thought that she never should be able to 
look upon Isabella Falkstone, particularly now, for 
people said that she was very gay and dashing, and had 
forgotten Hester altogether. Nevertheless, there were 
much talking and much bustle in the village on the day 
of their arrival, for many guests had come down with 
them, and it was quite a gay sight to the villagers 
when the splendid chariots drove through, filled with 
elegant ladies and foreign-looking gentlemen. And 
it was pleasant, too, to see Sir Huston and his lady, 
and to receive from them a smile of recognition as of 
old. 

On the coming Sunday, every new dress, bonnet, or 
coat that could be had, found its way to church, to wit- 
ness the stately train of ladies and gentlemen that 
would sweep'up the broad stone aisles. 

But little change could be seen in Sir Huston and 
Lady Falkstone. They were still the same ; with lofty 
bearing, yet gracious and pleasant to all with whom 


202 


JUDGE not;” OB, 


they met. But two years had made a great change in 
their daughter. Isabella was taller, and the girlish 
manners of former times had given place to a more 
womanly appearance. There seemed to be a bright- 
ness, a gayety about her now, entirely new. She 
talked, and even indulged in a merry laugh with her 
companions, as she walked with them down the avenue 
of the church-yard. 

Many comments were made, even by the village peo- 
ple, upon her change of appearance and manner. Little 
did they know what Isabella’s smiles covered ! That 
cburch-3mrd, — it brought back sad memories ; and the 
young lady was glad to mask her feelings with assumed 
ga^’ety. No ! no ! Isabella Falkstone had not forgotten 
the past, nor blotted from her memory the sweet friend 
who was slumbering under the soft, green turf. She 
wms glad to escape from the solemn 3mrd, and to put 
aside the past by indulging in present pleasures. 

“ West Oakland” was ver3" ga3’’, and every day brought 
with it some new enjoyment, and Miss Falkstone found 
but little time to indulge in painful reflections. She 
was gay and merry with the rest. 

Among the guests there were two or three who had 
heard just a little, — enough of the story of Hester 
Powers to make them desire to know more. 

“ The portrait, what had become of it? ” They had 
set their hearts upon finding out, and were determined 
to see it. 

They were with Isabella, one morning, in the gallery 
where it had once hung ; and, as they stood beneath the 
beautiful pictures executed b3^ Markham, the impulse 


HESTER powers' GIRLHOOD, 


203 


of curiosity came too strongly, and one of the young 
ladies asked, — 

“ Miss Isabella, tell us about the girl, — about the por- 
trait, that for a little while filled that vacant space ? ” 

But Isabella grew so livid, and trembled so violently, 
that they regretted the unfortunate request, at the mo- 
ment, but were not satisfied. Woman-like, they were still 
watching for an opportunity to gratify their curiosity. 

Lord Grumby was now one of the guests ; and, most 
fortunately, came unaccompanied by his gout. The 
old gentleman was younger than the youngest gentle- 
man present. The young ladies were his delight, and 
he accounted nothing a trouble that would- enhance 
their pleasure. His good-natured, pompous ways added 
much to the amusement of the young people, and, in- 
deed, they would have considered it quite a misfortune 
to lose so pleasant an acquisition to their circle. 

The old lord was a famous chess-player, and there 
was nothing he loved better than, in the cool of the 
evening, to have a game out under the trees in. front 
of the mansion. Frequently a merry party would 
assemble under the deep shade of the great oak, which 
stood a little to the right of the avenue ; the same old, 
massive tree of which mention has been made before. 
The great hollow in it was rapidly increasing, and ex- 
tended now almost through its ponderous trunk. 

This decay, and eating out, as it were, of its very 
vitals, seemed in no way to affect its life and vigor ; 
its mammoth branches were as rich in foliage as ever, 
and tlie birds still fiocked to its leafy shelter, and the 
deer still loved to rest in its shade. Many a sweet 


204 


. “ JUDGE, not; ” OR, 


song was carolled forth from out its top, for the little 
songsters were safe in the wide-spreading and cluster- 
ing foliage. And, my reader, it was a beautiful sight, 
a bright picture, when a party of graceful and beauti- 
ful women, richly attired, and gentlemen, in courtly 
dress, sat around, under the cool shade of this noble 
old tree, snuffing the" perfumed hay as it came up from 
the meadows i-i while book, or embroidery, or game lay 
on the lap, or on the green turf at their feet. 

Yes, it was a pretty sight. Occasionally, Isabella 
would add to the enjoyment of the hour a little music ; 
she would have her harp brought forth, and as she 
swept its chords, and mingled her rich voice with its - 
tender cadence, all nature seemed intent. Truly it was 
a joyous party at “ West Oakland. ” Never before had 
so much gayety, so many mirthful voices, resounded 
through those ancient halls. 

The weeks, — nay, months were passing, but the 
guests were still there. No one thought of leaving so 
delightful a place for the city. Even Lord Grumby, 
who had at first declared that it would be impossible 
for him to stay away from his club more than four 
weeks, now declared that the “ confounded club” was 
a nuisance, and he didn’t care if he never saw it 
again. He never was so well in his life, — never so 
happy. What would the dusty, muddy, smoky, misty, ' 
rainy city feel like, to a fellow coming from such a 
paradise as “ West Oakland ” ? 

The barley harvest was at hand, and the golden tops 
of the ripening grain was the topic of conversation 
among all classes. So far it had been a year of plenty ; 


HESTER POWERS^ GIRLHOOD, 


205 


and now, as the farmers looked abroad upon the golden 
fields they rejoiced, for there was a promise of an 
abundant harvest. 

The reapers are going forth, now, with sickles 
sharp and glittering, as they rest upon their shoulders ; 
but before they thrust them in there arises a joyous 
shout, which is echoed far away over the hills, — 

“ Now glory to the steel 

That shines in the reaper’s hand, 

And thanks to God, who has blessed the sod. 

And crowned the harvest land I ” 

The harvest ! The harvest ! To the guests at “West 
Oakland” it brought new and delightful amusement. 
The brilliant saloons of the mansion were now de- 
serted for the field, and in the evening, which brought 
the weary reapers home, it afforded to the ladies gen- 
uine pleasure to wait upon them at the tables placed 
under the trees. They were happy indeed, and the sun- 
burnt, honest laborer smiled his thanks as he received 
his laden plate from delicate hands. 

One would have fancied that our old friend Grumby 
had never felt a “ gouty twinge ” or any other twinge ; 
he was still the life of the party, either in the field or 
at home. He was sheaf-binder now, and before one 
could count- ten he wa^ helping some little ragged 
gleaner to pick up the stray ears. 

Ah ! the harvest, the harvest-time brings something 
more than bread. It brings plenty of enjoyment, 
plenty of fun and joy ! 


206 


judge^not;** or, 


“ There’s merry laughter in the field, 

And harmless jest and frolic rout 
And the last harvest waiu goesjjy, 

With its rustling load so pleasantly, 

To the glad and clamorous harvest shout. 
There are busy gleaners in the field, — 

The old, whose work is never done. 

And eager laughing, childish bands, 
Kubbing the ears in their little hands. 

And singing ’neath the harvest sun.” 


And there were feasting and fun and brightness at 
“West Oakland,” and ladies and gentlemen, as they 
glided over the waxen floors, caught the rejoicing 
sound of “ harvest home.” 

Farmers chuckled as they housed the last load, and 
said, as they looked toward the brassy heavens, “ Just 
in time ; for there’s a storm coming ! ” 

Yes, it was coming ! The day opened hot and 
sultry, and toward noon the low muttering thunders 
came along over the distant forests and hills. The 
ladies looked from the windows with discontented 
faces. What were they to do? It was dismal to be 
obliged to resign all out-door sports, and just sit 
around quietly waiting and watching the gathering 
storm ; but there was no alternative, and one by one 
they sought amusement. 

The young ladies so curious to know the story of 
our heroine were together at one of the windows. 
They had been amusing themselves for some time by 
watching the herds of deer going toward the groves, 
and the peacocks as they went to their shelter. 

“ Caroline,” said one, “ this is just the time for 
hearing stories. Let us go and hunt up Old Grieves ; 


HESTER POWE^^ GIRLHOOD. 207 

you know she is a perfect storehouse of marvellous 
and horrible tales.” 

‘‘Oh, yes ! ” said the other, giving her a curious 
look; “perhaps we can find out about the village girl 
and the picture. It was such a romantic story, if all is 
true. Just to think of being married in prison, and 
dying, too. 

They left the drawing-room, and very soon found the 
righteous Grieves enjoying a real good draught of cool 
ale, — that beverage being peculiarly refreshing to her 
in summer, and very strengthening in winter ; beside, 
under its gentle stimulation she could tell the most in- 
teresting stories. Being in a particularly happy mood 
on this occasion, she indulged in a few of her best ghost- 
stories, and really made the girls cry with laughing. 

Poor Grieves ! She hadn’t changed a jot in the last 
two years. Changed ! not one bit had Grieves. Her 
tawny skin was as tight over her bones as ever, and 
the little corkscrew curls on each side of her sharp 
features looked exactly as they had done for twenty 
3^ears. They were melancholy false ones ; though who 
would have dared said as much to Grieves ? Oh, no ! 
Grieves did not change or grow old like the rest of us 
poor human kind ; she only glided quietly on with 
time, coming in contact with none of its marring, 
discordant infiuences. She was no older now than 
she was fifteen years back, when, sad to say, her last 
sweetheart played her false, — bad, naughty fellow that 
he was ! Such things will happen, however, some- 
times. All men are not silly enough to — to — 

Oh, dear ! we are forgetting that the young ladies 


208 


JUDGE ^KOT 


07 ?, 


a 




are still with Mrs. Grieves. We find them speaking 
of the storm, and the lady’s maid declaring that she 
was rMher fond of them. “ Frightened ! my dears, 
Christians haint got hany need to be scared ! I kin 
stand hat the winder, and watch the forked tongues a- 
flashin’ and whippin’ acrost the hawful ’eavens, feeling 
as peaceful and composed as a lamb, my dears, just 
as Christians should ! ” She concluded with a sigh, 
while draining the last drop from her ale-glass. 

The girls smiled at each other, and then Miss Caro- 
line leaned forward and said, — 

“ Mrs. Grieves, we want 3mu to tell us something 
about that girl who robbed Miss Falkstone of her 
jewels.” 

“ Oh ! my sakes alive f” exclaimed Grieves ; “ don’t 
ask me to mention ’er wicked name. I’ve had bother 
enough wey that thing ; now only last night, young 
ladies, I was scared all but bout of my senses ! ” 

“With what ? Anj-Thing relating to her, — Hester, 
I think her name was.” 

“ Relating ! ” said Grieves, with a groan. “ Well, I 
may as well tell hit ; ’twon’t do no ’arm. I didn’t go 
to bed till late, you know, 3"Oung ladies, for it was ’ar- 
vest ’ome and there ’ad been a leetle of somethin’ go- 
ing on below stairs as well has hup. Well, be that has 
hit may, when I did go hupstairs. I’d honly about got 
to me door and turned the key hin hit, when there 
came the hawfulest, wildest screech that I hever did ’ear 
a howl give. I felt the blood just ciu’dle in my veins. 
I just turned to me glass, and I tell 3'ou the truth, my 
cap — the real lace, you know, with pink — was a standin’ 


HESTER POWERS^ GIRLHOOD, 


209 


hup ’pon the ends of me ’air. I didn’t look hat such a 
spectacle long, but just pushed me cap into a drawer, 
and curled m3^self up hin the bedclothes without heven 
hundressing me. Hand after hall that, I had to go to 
sleep and dream of that hawful gal hall night. What 
made me I don’t know, lest it was so, — we ’ad snap- 
dragon has a-windin’-hup dish, and the brandy might 
’ave got a mite to me brain. Haint it black off 
there ? ” 

“Well, do tell us about her. Cannot you let us see 
her picture? I’m sure you might,” one of the girls 
said. 

“ Don’t say no,” said the other ; “ she was very pret- 
ty, — wasn’t she ? ” 

“That she was,” answered Grieves; “hers was a 
face a body couldn’t forget. But, sakes ! did 3"ou ’ear 
that thunder?” 

“ Yes ; but just take us to see the picture ; we’ll be 
as quiet as mice, and tell no one in the world about 
it.” 

“ See hit ! the master would turn me hout, bag and 
baggage, hif he thought I’d do such a thing against ’is 
orders. But, O my ! what lightning ! I couldn’t go 
hup hin that black, ’orrid, dismal, cobwebby lum-' 
ber room after that dreadful picter in this ’urricane, — 
no, not for a king’s crown ! ” 

“ But to-morrow perhaps you will?” 

“ Y'es, I’ll let^'ou see hit to-morrow.” 

The girls flew back to the parlors, for by this time 
the storm had become quite violent. The wind was 
sweeping in heavy gusts over the park, carrying with 
14 


210 


JUDGE not;” OB, 


it leaves and branches stripped from the groves. The 
sturdy trees were bending beneath the fury of the blast, 
and the whole air was darkened. The vivid, lurid 
tongues of fire leaped through the black clouds, and 
the very earth seemed to quake with the rolling thun- 
ders. 

The young ladies trembled as they divested them- 
selves of jewelry and hid in quiet comers. Some few, 
however, were not alarmed, and they, with Isabella 
and her father, stood near the window to watch the 
fearful, yet sublime storm. 

“ O father ! ” said Isabella, lapng her hand upon his 
arm ; “ see ! see, how our noble old oak trembles ! ” 
One more furious blast, and there was a cry from 
many voices, ‘‘ The oak ! the oak is gone ! ” 

Yes, that mighty, magnificent tree, which had stood 
the storms of centuries, had fallen ! — or, rather, half 
fallen. Its lofty head was bending over, and its lower 
branches sweeping the ground. * 

The storm continued. Wind, lightning, thunder, 
— all swept on, and those who stood mourning over 
the destroyer’s work looked for the tree to be laid still 
lower ; but it remained just as the first cruel blow had 
left it, like a dying warrior. Isabella wept its fall, 
and all who witnessed it regretted that it should have 
been made the storm-king’s victim, while others, of no 
value, stood erect and boldly shook the rain-drops from 
their leaves. 

“ Well, it is gone ; the monarch of the park is gone,” 
said Sir Huston, rather sadly ; “ but it had lived its 


HESTER POWERS GIRLHOOD. 


211 


day, and a very long one, too ; so we must give him up 
as we would a valued friend.” 

The storm sobbed itself out by and by, and the 
morning dawned bright and dazzling. The air was 
cool and refreshing, and the flowers, grass, and trees 
were spangled with glittering drops. The gentlemen 
had walked out early to look at the fallen tree. 

“ Is it entirely down? ” inquired Lady Falkstone. 

“ No,” answered Sir Huston ; “ but Grumby and I 
have concluded to have it down, by and by ; as it is 
now, it is dangerous.” 

“ Have it cut down, Sir Huston ! ” called out several 
voices ; “ we shall enjoy the fun ! ” 

“ No, papa,” said Isabella ; “let it remain just as it 
is for a while.” 

“ Oh, no, my daughter ; it is best to have it removed ; 
but you shall have my consent to erect a monument to 
his honorable memory.” 

The girls laughed. About two hours later in the 
day a couple of sturdy axe-men waited beside the tree. 
Some of the ladies and gentlemen stood upon the ter- 
races to witness the fall, while others, the younger 
ones, went upon the ground. 

“ I will stand here,” said Isabella, walking a few 
paces nearer to' where she thought the top of the old 
oak would reach. 

“Not quite so near. Miss Falkstone, if you please,” 
said her father, “ unless you want a slight brush.” 

She moved back a little way. and the axe-men began 
their work. A few lusty strokes, and it gave way, — 
a few more, — yet more, and, with a crackling, rustling 


212 


JUDGE not;” or, 

sound, the giant oak was prostrate. A shout arose, 
and Isabella rushed forward, for the curious old nest 
which she and Hester had so often talked about was 
close before her, within her reach. 

“ Now,” she cried, as she rushed forward, “ now I 
will see what it contains ! ” 

She poured forth one of her wild, joyous laughs, as 
she pressed herself in among the branches. She 
caught the branch eagerly, for others were trying to 
forestall her ; but she gained; the nest was before her. 
She looked in it, — seized something, — and then, with a 
cry more piercing, more appalling, than that with which 
she had fled from the grave of her friend, she fell for- 
ward. In the bottom of the magpie’s nest — the little 
jeioelled watch and the stolen ring were found. 

Pale, motionless as a grim statue 'of despair, the 
master of “ West Oakland ” looked upon his daughter 
still fallen, still clutching the jewels for which Hester 
had died. Quicker — quicker than the flashing light- 
ning the sad memories of those days crowded upon him. 
Ah ! he again beheld that old man standing fearlessly 
before him, with pride, honesty, honor stamped upon 
his features, and a pale and trembling girl clinging, 
clinging in her anguish to his knees. And what else ? 
Did no other picture pass before his excited mind ? Alas ! 
yes ; he saw upon a little bed in a prison-cell a beautiful, 
— crushed — dead girl. The truth, the fearful truth 
burst upon the inmates of “ West Oakland” with more 
power, more awful power, than did the pealing thun- 
ders of the storm. It shook every nerve ; it paled every 


HESTER powers' GIRLHOOD. 


213 


face ; features looked blank at each other at the words 
“ The magpie — it was the magpie — not the girl V 

Ah ! who among the old servants that had been in 
Sir Richard’s service and were acquainted with his 
fondness for taming birds, and watching particularly 
the pilfering propensities of the crow and magpie, — 
who among them could not now tell wonderful tales? 
But there were none among them able to bring back the 
past, — alas ! none able to open the grave, and restore 
the child to her suffering parents ; — none ! none. The 
grave will not give up its prey, death will not restore his 
victim. 

Rubens clasped his hands, and lifted his haggard 
face upward while he exclaimed, “ Father, I bless thee 
that thou kept me free tlie cruelty. I did not condemn 
her even in the blackest hour of her trouble. Her name 
be free now, — she be not dead.” 

No, Hesteii was not dead ; she was present then to each 
member of the family who had condemned her ; yes, she 
stood before them with no blot upon her name. 

Can we wonder that Sir Huston Falkstone sought 
the retirement of his own chamber, and that his lofty 
head was bowed ? 

Can we wonder at his daughter’s anguish, when she 
remembered that she had hurried her friend to an early 
grave ; that she, by false accusation, by hasty judgment, 
had cut down so fair a being in the bloom and brightness 
of youth? We do not. Isabella might well suffer. 

The old gardener suddenly remembered that he had 
seen the magpie perched upon the railing of the bal- 
cony close to Miss Falkstone’s pressing-room window 


214 . JUDGE NOT.” 

just before Hester had been seen to leave the mansion 
on the fatal morning when the little watch was lost. 
But the information came too late. “Why didn’t I 
think to speak of it,” said the old man, “ 'when I’d seed 
him, wey me hown heyes, carry off things before?” 

The mystery of the brilliant spray, — all could see 
through it plainly now. 'The thief had let it fall from 
his nest, and unfortunately it had been found at Hes- 
ter’s feet. 

Alas ! too many graves are filled with victims ! 

“ Judge not ! ” For why should we judge our brother? 
Shall we not all be judged by and by? And what will 
our judgment be in that day when the books are 
opened and the “ dead are judged out of the things 
which are written in the books according to their 
works ” ? Will there be clemency shown to us who had 
no mercy? Will not those who perished. at our hands 
stand between us and the glory of the celestial city? 

“ Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with what 
judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged ; and with what 
measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.” 


CHAPTER XIX. 


Hester’s innocence proclaimed. 

The city spires were still lost in the morning mist, 
and the rising sun Was struggling his way through the 
thick volumes which hung above, and even below, and 
could be felt clinging to one’s very clothes. 

Lord Grumby had twice rung his bell, — twice gone 
to the chamber window to look out ; but he saw noth- 
ing but mist, mist, gloomy mist everywhere. Impa- 
tiently he gave a third pull to the bell, while he mut- 
tered, “ Confound that lazy rascal ! I’ll, I’ll — Bless 
me, Gibson, what’s the matter? Didn’t you hear my 
bell?” 

“ In truth, me Lord, I did, yer honor,” said Gibson ; 
“ but I thought you had mistaken the time, sir. It is 
not seven, my Lord ! ” 

“ What if it was’nt five, confound your — I say, Gib- 
son, my man, I’m in a hurry this morning ; have me 
a cup of good cofiee brought at once, and, by the way, 
let a cab be at the door by the time I’ve swallowed it. 
Do you understand ? ” 

“ Yes, perfectly,” said Gibson, with eyes wide open. 

215 


216 


JUDGE not;’’ OiJ, 


He closed the door after him, and went over the stairs 
wondering “ what was up.” 

The coffee and hack were soon ready, and the man 
went to his lordship’s room to offer services, and to find 
out what he could by observation. But he gained 
about as much as he ever did at such times. Lord 
Grumby understood servants w'ell, and they rarely 
found much satisfaction when attempting to pry into 
his affairs. So Gibson quietly watched him gulp down 
his' coflee, and then still wondering he ran out to open 
the cab door. 

A little before eight o’clock the same cab stopped at 
the garden-gate of the cottage on the King’s Court 
Road, where Simon Powers, his wife, and Markham still 
resided. 

The old gentleman opened the gate and wmlked into 
the garden. He could scarcely believe that he was in 
the right place, at first, so great a change had taken 
place in its appearance. There were no briers, no 
thistles, no weeds to be seen. Flowers, fruits, and 
vegetables were flourishing all around ; every bed was 
in the very perfection of order. Beautiful fiowering 
vines crept over the trellised porch, and on each side 
of the door the rosemary grew ; tulip and wall-flow- 
ers bloomed under the windows, and the sweet-scented 
hyacinth shed its fragrance all around. 

The hall door was open, and Lord Grumby, feeling 
himself still at home in a place once his own property, 
walked in without knocking. The little family had 
just taken their seats at the breakfast-table, — Nancy 
at the head, and her husband and son-in-law on either 


HESTER POWERS* GIRLHOOD. 


217 


side of her. Grumby was about to speak, when he ob- 
served that the old man was going to ask a blessing ; 
so he lifted his hat and waited. 

There was something touching, almost holy, in the 
expression of Simon’s face as he spoke ; and even Lord 
Grumby felt as he looked on, that after all there was 
something beautiful, exalting in religion. 

When the blessing was concluded Markham caught 
sight of his patron’s portly figure, as he again came 
toward the breakfast-room door. 

“ Why ! ” the young man exclaimed, springing from 
his chair, “ this is a pleasant surprise indeed, my lord ! 
Have you breakfasted ? ” 

The question was involuntary, and brought the quick 
blood to his face, for he suddenly recollected the dif- 
ference between the social positions of his guest and 
the old people at table. 

But Grumby was quick to perceive his thoughts, and 
said quickly, “My dear fellow. I’d as lief eat with 
them as with kings, and I tell you I’m in good trim for 
a real substantial meal, and then above all things I 
want to know your two old friends. Glad to see you 
all so comfortable and well ; you’ve made it a pleasant 
home. Fine fellow, very fine fellow you are, my dear 
boy ! Come ! ” He preceded Markham into the room, 
and commenced a thorough shaking of hands with the 
old folks. 

“ How-de-do ! how-de-do ! ” he said ; “ sorry I haven’t 
been out before, but gout and business, — two con- 
founded things, — they hold a fellow tight, you know ! ” 

Lord Grumby had never before seen either Simon or his 


218 JUDGE not;'* or, 

wife ; and, from what he had heard about them more 
than two years before, he looked upon them as almost 
an imbecile old pair. He was, therefore, not a little sur- 
prised to find them quite intelligent. They talked well 
about outside matters first ; and then Lord Grumby 
asked about the garden, the house-keeping, and things 
around him. “ And you find this a pleasant and healthy 
place ? ” he said, addressing himself to Markham. 

“ Ah, my lord ! ” answered Simon, “ there ben’t a 
day that dawns that we don’t bless thee for being so 
good to us all in our trouble.” 

“ Don’t speak of it ! don’t speak of it ! ” said Lord 
Grumby. “ It was scarcely worth haying when — No, 
no ! don’t speak of such a trifle, I beg.” 

“ But it be due to you,” said Simon, shaking his 
white head. “ I found the gee’ern all growed over wey 
weeds, and I got out me tools and sot to work. It 
took my mind from my sorrow, sometimes. It helped 
me ; and, between working and religion, sir, there come 
a sort of peace to us, after a while. Ah, my lord ! 
religion be a good thing ; it be a stay and comfort, 
and fetches to us always a sure peace. Nancy and I 
couldn’t ha’e stood up in our trouble but for it; oh, 
no ! there be joy in believing.” 

Grumby could not help feeling impressed as the old 
man spoke, and he said with a smile, but with feelings 
he, perhaps, would not like to have shown then, “ I will 
come here often, Simon. I might find this a more 
profitable place to visit than my old club-rooms.” He 
arose, and, drawing Markham’s arm through his, said, 
“ Come, I have something to say to you, my boy,” and 


219 


HESTER POWERS GIRLHOOD. 

then, turning to the old people, he said;^ I will see 
you again soon.” 

The parlor was on the opposite side of the hall, the 
door of which stood open. 

“Step in,” Markham said, as they were passing; 
“we have just had it done up, — painted and so forth, 
and, to please the old people, I have stuck around a few 
pictures, you see.” 

“ Landscapes,” said Lord Grumhy. “ I did not 
know you painted in that line so well.” 

“ Don’t be too severe, my lord,” said Markham, smil- 
ing. 

“ Severe ! I’m honest. The pictures are fine ; and 
’pon my honor, it puzzles me to know how you have 
been able to do so much in two little years.” 

“ I have been prospered, my lord, prospered beyond 
my most sanguine expectations. I told you that I 
should be blessed ! The two old people have been 
everything in the world to me, and for their sakes I 
have been blessed.” 

“ Markham, my noble boy, I should be proud to call 
you my son. May your blessings be multiplied a 
thousand-fold ! But what is this ? This is not a land- 
scape. Who is she ? In the name of reason, did ever 
such a being live?” 

“ Yes,” said Markham, sadly ; “ that, my lord,” — he 
stopped a moment for he felt the old emotion arising 
within him, — “that, sir, is a true likeness of Hester 
Powers.” 

“What! Great heavens!” exclaimed Lord Grum- 
by. “ Did she look like that ? ” 


220 


'‘'•JUDGE not;'" 07J, 

“ That picture hardly does her justice,” Markham 
said. “ She was beautiful, — very, very beautiful.” 

“ And could Falkstone commit her to prison for 
crime ? Oh, fool, fool that he was ! His hasty judgment 
brought a curse — a curse upon his house, a blight 
upon his own and his daughter’s lives ! Come here, my 
boy. Pull up your chair and let me hold your hand. 
I pity, I honor, I love you ! with my whole soul I do ! 
Don’t tremble so. Pll be as gentle as I can, but our 
hearts nor our words are as tender as woman’s.” Then 
the old gentleman stopped a moment, for there had 
come a redness about his eyes, and a choking sensa- 
tion in his throat. “Well,” he continued, at length, 
“ I may as well tell you out plain. They know now 
that she was innocent. The real thief has been found.” 

For a little while the young man’s blanched face 
was hidden in his handkerchief; but presently he 
looked up ; there was a smile upon his lips as he said, 
“ Thank the Lord ! thank the Lord for all his mercies ! 
I knew this day would come ; — but the world — the 
world must know it.” 

“ To-morrow,” said Lord Grumby, “ to-morrow, my 
boy, the whole thing will be published by Falkstone’s 
own request. He knows that you and her parents will 
be told the tale by me to-day. I left ‘ West Oakland’ 
but yesterday evening, and I tell you, I quitted a try- 
ing scene ; for the blow fell upon the household with 
fearful weight. It came, sir, in the midst of mirth and 
gayety with crushing — crushing force. ‘ What can I 
do ? ’ said the proud man in grief. ‘ How can I indem- 
nify .them for their loss ? Could I bestow on them in- 


HESTER POWERS GIRLHOOD, 


221 


calculable wealth, — nay, make my very life a sacri- 
fice, — they would not be satisfied. It would not bring 
back to them their lost and only child, nor restore the 
young wife to her husband. No, no ! ’ ” 

“ Now, my boy,” continued the old gentleman, after 
a pause, “ be tender to him, be slow of speech if you 
should ever meet him, for now he is weak, and you are 
strong. Oh ! he Is not the only sufferer ; it will go 
hard with his daughter. So I say, my boy, return 
good for evil ; be gentle, for they believed that they were 
doing right. They believed her guilty. They couldn’t 
see up into a magpie’s nest, you know.” 

“ A magpie’s nest ! ” exclaimed Markham. 

“Yes, my boy,” said the old gentleman, brushing 
something from the corner of his eye, “ it was a mag- 
pie who carried off the jewels. And now, look you, 
nothing can bring back or change that which has 
rolled by on the river of time, — nothing, — nothing ! 
Bear this as you did the deep affliction, — be patient, 
and rejoice that her name is free and pure.” 

Markham pressed the old gentleman’s hand and 
said, through his tears, “It is the Lord. He hath 
dealt with us very mercifully.” 

The cab which had brought his lordship out to the 
cottage still waited before the garden-gate, and after a 
little rambling through the garden with Simon, and 
Nancy had gathered a nice little basket full of the ripest 
fruit. Lord Grumby bade them good-morning, promis- 
ing to come again very soon. 

“ Ah, do ! ” said Simon, “ come often ; it will cheer 


222 


JUDGE not;” om, 

US along to see one who has been so good to us. 
Good-by.” 

Markham and Grumby rode off toward the city to- 
gether. That same evening, as the little family sat 
together in the porch of their pretty home enjojdng the 
twilight of the summer evening, Markham told the old 
people the news. Ah ! it brought back very vividly, 
very painfully, the sad past. Yet, amid their tears 
they felt an inward joy that the time had come for Hes- 
ter’s name to be cleared, — cleansed from the stain of 
crime ; that they had lived to see the day when her ac- 
cusers would proclaim her innocent. 


In a small, close room of a little house in a narrow 
street, in one of the most unhealthy and dismal parts 
of the great metropolis, there sat a feeble-looking wo- 
man. She had been ill, and was now slowly recover- 
ing ; there was a fretful, peevish look upon her face, 
as a slovenly-looking girl brought her in the morning’s 
paper. 

“ Have the lodgers gone out?” inquired the woman, 
in an ill-natured tone. 

“ Yes, ma’am.” 

“ Then bring me my breakfast ; it must be ten 
o’clock.” 

“ It isn’t nine, ma’am,” ventured the girl. 

“ I don’t care hif ’taint height ! bring me my break- 
fast ! ” 

“ Will you have toast and a boiled egg, ma’am? ” 

“Yes.” 

The breakfast soon came. And, as the girl placed it 


HESTER powers" GIRLHOOD, 


223 


before her crabbed mistress, she said, in a sort of sym- 
pathizing tone, “ you was up most all night, ma’am, I 
reckon.” * 

“ I should think I was ! ” was the answer. 

It is Mrs. Roland, late maid to Miss Falkstone, in 
whose house we are, now, my reader. She had been 
feeling quite troubled, of late, — during her illness, par- 
ticularly. She had something upon her mind, which she 
sometimes determined to relieve herself of, and again, 
determined not to, according to her moods. 

When the girl went downstairs, she took up the pa- 
per, as she almost always did over her breakfast ; but, 
before she had eaten two mouthfuls, she exclaimed. 

My goodness me ! ” 

Her very lips turned white as she rapidly read down 
the column ; for well she remembered the part she 
had played in the last drama of Hester’s life. 

In giving to the press the entire history of the affair 
which a second time had cast a gloom over the “ West 
Oakland” mansion, the writer concluded by remarking 
that the only thing yet in mystery relating to the jew- 
els, and which still seemed to cast a doubt upon the 
unfortunate girl’s name, was, that the little emerald 
brooch was actually found in her possession ; “ had that 
not been the case, she would not, in all probability, 
have been committed to prison. That, at the time, 
proved her guilt.” 

“ That proved her guilt ! ” exclaimed Roland, spring- 
ing to her feet. “ That proved her guilt ! Then I — lam 
her murderer, for I placed it there ! ” 

Roland was a wretched woman. Remorse laid her 


224 


JUDGE not” 

again upon a sick-bed, and it was weeks before she 
could move about in her cramped-up, wretched little 
room. Roland, in her position as lady’^ maid, fre- 
quently found it convenient to appropriate some little 
article of finery belonging to her mistress, — such as 
fine laces and ribbons. When the jewels were missed, 
she feared that a general search would be made, and 
that her misdeeds might be brought to light. 

Believing that Hester had taken the jewels, and 
would be careful to place them in a secure hiding-place, 
she wickedly placed the emerald brooch in the girl’s dress, 
for the 'purpose of establishing her guilt, and to re- 
move all suspicion from herself. 


“ West Oakland ” is once more a deserted place, for 
very soon after the events of our last chapter the 
Falkstone family again left it, perhaps forever. 

The winter winds have swept over it, and some of its 
ancient walls are beginning to crumble. The matted 
ivy clinging dismally around the turrets and gables 
gives to it a sort of dreary, forsaken look. No one is 
seen about the place but the old house-keeper, the 
gardener, and Mr. Rubens. But they never know much 
about the family, — they dislike to be questioned. 

We will, however, say that since the memorable day 
when the great oak fell, Isabella had secluded herself 
almost entirely from society. Her father had settled 
an ample income upon Simon and his wife, and Isabel- 
la had herself caused to be erected over Hester’s grave 
a costly monument, bearing the simple words, 

“Judge not.” 









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